


The Red Queen Chronicles: The Spy

by MarvelMaster616



Category: Avengers (Comics), Black Widow (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Group Sex, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-10 01:00:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 26,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10425732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarvelMaster616/pseuds/MarvelMaster616
Summary: Sequel to "The New Red Queen." When the Black Widow helped take down the Inner Circle, she did so with a very personal, very sexy goal in mind. Now, with the help of Mary Jane Watson and the Hellfire Club, the Russian super spy get the most out of that goal.





	1. Chapter 1

** The Red Queen Chronicles: The Spy  
Chapter 1: The Deal **

* * *

**AN: This story is another story based off of my “The New Red Queen” series. It takes place after the events of that story. Mary Jane Watson is now managing the Hellfire Club. I’ll also be using this story to explore some of the other events I’ve cited in previous stories. It will be at least two chapters long, but it may expand, depending on how it plays out.**

_‘These mean character thoughts.’_

**Disclaimer: I don’t own Spider-Man, Mary Jane, the Avengers, SHIELD Black Widow, or Marvel and I am making no money off this. They are the property of Stan Lee, Marvel, and Disney. Please don’t sue.**

**This fic contains explicit sexual material and adult themes. If that offends you, please don’t read it. As always, I encourage everyone to take the time to review this story. Send me your feedback via email at** [ **MarvelMaster616@hotmail.com** ](mailto:MarvelMaster616@hotmail.com) **or post a review on the adultfanfiction website. Thank you and enjoy the story.**

* * *

**The Hellfire Club – The Past**

_‘There’s a difference between being a spy and being a competent spy. Just being a spy comes at a price. Being a competent spy, however, requires sacrifice. That’s the price of being good at this job. Few are equipped to pay up. Even fewer have the will. The problem is this world needs a lot of competent spies…more than can reasonably exist. It’s good for business, but it makes the sacrifices that much harder. They leave scars on your soul that never heal. When it comes to dealing with those scars…well, sometimes you have to get creative.’_

“Is this it, Natasha?” asked an impatient Emma Frost. “Are you sure this is everything I need to keep Shaw and his bastard behind bars? Preferably until the end of time?”

“It’s all there,” Natasha affirmed, with all the certainty she could offer as the Black Widow. “Data disks, financial records, classified files, private video files featuring some _very_ disturbing conduct…it’s all there.”

“I don’t even want to contemplate the contents of those videos. Shaw has a knack for raising the bar for revulsion and his son just _loves_ to raise it more.”

“The sheer _breadth_ of the intel should make them unnecessary,” the Russian woman assured, “but should that day come – hopefully several centuries from now – those files should shatter any efforts to absolve Shaw of his crimes. Even by old Soviet standards, the details of those files are disturbing.”

“For once, Shaw’s debauchery works to our benefit. Those are words I never thought I’d be able to say with a straight face…or fully clothed, for that matter.”

Emma Frost gazed upon the wealth of valuable intel before her with a smug satisfaction that would put any ranking officer at SHIELD to shame. Sitting behind a fancy desk at the now-inactive Hellfire Club, once the primary hub for the Inner Circle, she was staring at an unmitigated personal triumph. She had dared to confront her sordid past and take it down. Unlike so many others, the former White Queen won.

Natasha had been part of that effort. It’d begun with a series of subversion efforts that Emma Frost organized and Maria Hill supported. Sebastian Shaw, his son, and the Inner Circle – the secretive organization that Emma had once been part of – had tried to go after her. Apparently, they didn’t like that she’d joined their enemies. There had been a rumor that they’d tried going after Emma’s students. Other rumors painted a more disturbing picture. Whatever the reason, Emma made it her mission to destroy the Inner Circle completely.

 _“I want them broken, penniless, powerless, disgraced, discredited, discarded, and everything in between!”_ she had told Maria Hill with an anger that rivaled the Hulk.

After that fateful declaration, she’d launched a series of covert operations against the Inner Circle, complete with the support and backing of SHIELD. Maria Hill, who’d been targeted by the Shaw’s arrogant son, helped ensure those operations were on a scope and scale that even the Inner Circle couldn’t beat.

As part of this effort, Emma had reached out to Natasha to conduct the most sensitive spy missions. Being the most accomplished spy in the world, as well as an active member of the Avengers, the White Queen saw her as the best in the business and spared no expense.

 _“I want everything about everything on Shaw and his bastard. If he signed it, spit on it, or tried to blow it up, I want it documented and detailed,”_ Emma had told her. _“I want his web of treachery so exposed that everyone will know about a birthmark on his balls. Do this for me, Ms. Romanov, and I’ll compensate you in ways that even Tony Stark can’t match!”_

It had been demanding, but true to her reputation, Natasha Romanov had delivered. It hadn’t been easy. She’d tapped a lot of old contacts and cashed in a great many overdue favors, but it got the job done. She’d done her part, but her reasons for doing so went beyond money, duty, or anything of the sort.

“Provided you keep your clothes on, this is the most you’ll ever get on Shaw…or any man for that matter,” Natasha told the former White Queen. “I went to considerable lengths to get these materials. I hope you appreciate the resources I tapped to meet your demands.”

“Oh I do appreciate it, Natasha. Trust me. The world appreciates your efforts to help put the Shaws in an adamantium cage,” said Emma, still basking in the wealth of intel before her.

“I stopped giving a damn about the world’s appreciation a long time ago. I care only that the job is done.”

“Seeing as how you uncovered everything from his dental records to which extreme porn sites Shanobi frequents, I’d say it’s as done as it can be. I’ll certainly sleep easier knowing one less person is patronizing BallGaggedBitches.com.”

Emma kept grinning in triumph, taking in the breadth of her victory over the Shaws. Natasha couldn’t help but envy her. She had never been in Emma Frost’s position, being able to say with a straight face that she took on old enemies and defeated them so thoroughly. At this point in her long, shadowy life, such triumph was all but impossible.

Some of that was a byproduct of her age. She might have been endowed with biology that kept her in peak physical condition, thanks to the effects of the Red Room, but many of those old enemies hadn’t enjoyed such luxury. For the most part, she had outlived almost all of them. While that benefited her in some ways, it also doomed her to a long life full of unresolved conflicts. Even if time rendered them impotent, the scars they left remained.

Emma Frost had been more proactive. She’d gone the extra mile, making sure every enemy and every conflict she’d encountered during her time as the White Queen had been thoroughly vanquished. She’d tapped every resource, employing everyone who could help her take down Sebastian Shaw and the Inner Circle.

The Black Widow didn’t usually offer her services for such personal missions, especially for those who were active members of other superhero teams. Emma Frost was a member of the X-men and, while her standing had been tenuous in the past, she was gradually taking on a more prominent role with that team. It was an unspoken rule among other superhero teams, not getting caught up in one another’s affairs. However, Natasha had made an exception for Emma Frost and her efforts to take down the Inner Circle, but for reasons that went beyond her usual motives.

“Disturbing websites aside, I’d say this little partnership was productive,” said Emma as she gathered up the materials on the desk. “I intend to upload the digital data to a few private servers of mine. If Shaw, or his ass of a son, tries to dig himself out of the hole he’s in, I’ll make sure these files are on the desktop of every SHIELD agent on the planet.”

“Thanks to those with weak stomachs, I doubt that will be necessary,” said Natasha. “I spoke with Director Hill. She’s gone out of her way to make sure Shaw and his son are in a cell that Thanos himself couldn’t escape.”

“While I appreciate the Director’s efforts – even if I do question her choice in hair style – I’d remind her that you can’t be too thorough, especially with men like them.”

“Considering how they tried to hack her personal records, I still say they got off easy.”

“It’s still more than they deserve,” said Emma as she looked over some particularly thick files. “I intend to make sure there’s nothing left of their decadent empire. Thanks to this intel, I’ve everything I need to effectively purge Sebastian Shaw and his family from this world’s collective memory. Expect a sizable bonus along with my payment, which should clear by the end of the day.”

“It already has,” said Natasha, “and I appreciate it. But so long as you’re in such a giving mood, there’s another kind of _bonus_ I’d like to discuss.”

Emma stopped basking in her victory for a moment and gave Natasha a curious glance. This was the part of the meeting that the former Russian spy hoped to get through without incident. She’d endured enough uncertainty and suspicious glances for the duration of this operation. For once in her shadowy life, she needed someone not to second-guess her motivations.

“A bonus?” said the former White Queen with heightened intrigue. “I already told you the job is done. You’ve been paid in full. I’ve given you more praise in the past five minutes than I’ve given anyone since my last pedicure. What more could you possibly ask for?”

“Is this going to be a problem, Emma?” said Natasha with folded arms. “If so, tell me now so I can leave while you’re in such a good mood.”

“Oh it’s no problem, I assure you. It’s just…unexpected,” she said as she studied Natasha closely. “You’re not just the best spy in the world, Ms. Romanov. You’re pathologically averse to complicating things. Maybe it’s just the Russian in you, but you don’t ask for bonuses. You embody that old communist spirit of shunning greed and making do with what you have. For you to seek something more…I won’t lie that I’m genuinely curious.”

Natasha muttered a few Russian curse words under her breath. She also made an effort to strengthen her mental shields, another valuable skill that set her apart from most spies. This was exactly why she wanted to get through this without scrutiny. She knew someone like Emma Frost would be all too eager to scrutinize it.

“I’m sorry, but I’d rather not indulge your curiosity, Emma. This is an important matter…and a _private_ one, at that,” said Natasha, her voice as serious as the Russian winter. “What I’m about to request cannot leave this room. It must remain between us and _only_ us.”

“Darling, asking a telepath to keep secrets is like asking Picasso if he can draw stick-figures,” said Emma, still not taking this as seriously as Natasha would’ve preferred.

“It’s not just about keeping secrets. Please understand that as an Avenger, a world-class spy, and a former agent of the Soviet Union, there’s little I cannot obtain. Between money, favors, skills, and a willingness to cross more lines than most…well, surely you can appreciate that luxury more than most.”

“My imported lipstick and custom-made Gucci bags prevents me from denying that.”

“Then I hope you can also appreciate those rare instances where you seek something so vital, yet so difficult to obtain,” Natasha continued. “I went along with this operation for many reasons, most of which won’t surprise you. However, I put in the extra effort because you – as in you, the former White Queen of the Hellfire Club – are in a position to give me something no one else can. This thing I want – no, this thing I _need_ – is something I’ve struggled to find anywhere else. If possible, I’d like you to end that struggle.”

Emma continued to study her from across her fancy desk, shooting her a penetrating gaze. Natasha could easily imagine lesser spies faltering under that gaze. There was a reason why Emma Frost became White Queen of the Hellfire Club. She was uniquely qualified to navigate this devious, decadent world. For a master spy who had lived her entire life in this dark world, Natasha made sure she didn’t falter.

Leaning forward in her seat, now resting her elbows on the table, she met Emma’s gaze with her own. She made it abundantly clear that this was important to her. This was not something to belittle or make light of. What Natasha Romanov from this woman could mean the difference between salvaging the remnants of her soul and succumbing to this shadowy world she knew so well.

“I’m listening,” said Emma, “and I promise not to berate…even if it needs berating.”

“Spare me the shallow promises, Frost,” said Natasha sternly. “What I’m about to describe for you is going to sound downright inane by Hellfire Club standards. I doubt it’ll even make sense to someone who hasn’t spent several decades in the espionage business. I just need you to deliver and _not_ ask too many questions.”

“You’ve already seen what I can do to my enemies. Assume it works just as well the other way for my allies.”

“We’re not allies and this _isn’t_ a favor. This is an arrangement…a cold, callous business arrangement and nothing more,” said the master spy. “Now here’s what I want from you and here’s how I want to receive it…”

* * *

**The Hellfire Club – Later, But Still The Past**

_‘The hardest part about being a spy isn’t the lies you tell. It’s the lies you accept. When you enter this world, you’re basically surrounded by deception. You can’t trust anyone. You can’t get close to anybody. You can never just share yourself with someone and enjoy the simplest intimacy. You can try. God knows I’ve tried. But in the end, it only leads to more pain…pain that breeds even more lies. That’s why so many good, competent spies lose themselves. I don’t want to be one of them.’_

Once again, Natasha couldn’t help but admire Emma Frost’s resolve. She was just as thorough in returning favors as she was at crushing enemies. After describing to her this very personal favor of hers, the former White Queen went to work.

It had taken her only a couple hours at most to set up, far less time than the former Russian agent had anticipated. She’d expected Emma to make this a low priority while she enjoyed her triumph over Sebastian Shaw and the Inner Circle. The former White Queen ended up defying those expectations.

Natasha had been genuinely surprised – not an easy reaction to get from a master spy – when she watched Emma get up from her desk, make a few calls, and get everything ready for her. She hadn’t even berated or belittled Natasha’s request. She’d treated it as though it were her highest priority.

Natasha didn’t even have to leave the building. Emma’s efficiency genuinely stunned her. If only the old Russian government had been so efficient, then maybe all those revolutions wouldn’t have been necessary. Now standing in the doorway of a secure room, which happened to located several floors beneath the Hellfire Club’s private penthouse, Natasha Romanov saw what she needed standing before her.

“Well…what say you, Ms. Romanov? Will this be _sufficient_?” asked Emma in a serious, yet coy voice.

“If it delivers on every condition I laid out…” began a still-astonished Natasha.

“Trust me, darling. It checks _every_ box,” said Emma with a confident grin.

Normally, Natasha never believed anyone who said those words. For a master spy, giving someone their trust upon request was akin to giving Hydra complete blueprints for nuclear weapons. For once in her shadowy life, the Black Widow made an exception.

For a moment, the Russian woman took in the scene before her. The room itself wasn’t that fancy, especially compared to the rest of the Hellfire Club. It had no windows, no fancy art on the walls, and little in terms of amenities. It included a king-sized bed, plain carpets, basic lighting, and what appeared to be a small attached bathroom. By all accounts, it looked like a mid-range hotel room that anyone could find in any major city. However, the most important amenities had little to do with the room.

Standing in the center of this room, like soldiers standing at attention for a high-ranking officer, were three tall, well-muscled men. Natasha recognized them as men from the Inner Circle’s private guards, as evidenced by the distinct mask they wore to cover their faces. These had been the guards that once defended Sebastian Shaw, his son, and the Inner Circle so loyally. Now, with Shaw utterly defeated, it seemed Emma had redirected their loyalty.

“Not convinced? Allow me to allay your concerns,” said Emma in an overly casual tone.

The former White Queen stepped out ahead of Natasha for a moment and stood before the three masked guards with an authority that even Nick Fury would’ve respected.

“Gentlemen, disrobe and show Ms. Romanov your _endowment_ ,” she ordered. “Keep your masks on. You are still pawns of Hellfire.”

“Yes, Ms. Frost,” the three men replied in perfect unison.

With equally perfect obedience, the men undressed, removing their black bodysuits and boots. Within moments, they were completely naked from the neck down, revealing bodies of ripped manly flesh that were consistent with those of Olympic athletes. Having worked with the likes of Captain America, Natasha was used to such statures. However, she rarely got a chance to just admire them, as any woman of a heterosexual persuasion should.

“Not bad,” she said under her breath, trying not to sound too impressed.

“You Avengers have such _lofty_ standards,” teased Emma.

She might have had a point, but that didn’t hinder Natasha’s admiration of these men. Her eyes raked up and down their manly bodies, paying close attention to the _endowment_ between their legs. Maybe her standards were skewed from having seen the Hulk naked on a couple embarrassing equations, but these men definitely had dicks that qualified as above-average in size. She could easily imagine someone like Clint or Tony making jokes about them, but this was no laughing matter.

Having made her point, Emma stepped aside and welcomed Natasha to take a closer look. She gestured towards them as though she were a hostess leading an esteemed guest into the VIP section of a club. Natasha, now feeling a distinct weakness in her legs, stepped forth and approached the men.

“I think you’ll find these strapping studs quite _capable_ of meeting your needs,” said Emma Frost. “They damn well better. The former Black Queen, Selene Gallio, conditioned them as such.”

“I’m guessing that’s a polite way to say mean she tortured, manipulated, and brainwashed them into being obedient drones,” Natasha surmised.

“Call it what you want. Take it up with her if you must…what’s left of her anyways,” said Emma with a casual shrug. “All I can tell you is they’re still completely loyal to the Inner Circle, of which I’m the only ranking member. I even _tried_ to free their minds, but Selene really went the extra mile. They don’t have any minds left to free. They’re basically fleshy robots.”

“Robots with hard, chiseled muscles and big, throbbing cocks,” she added.

“That too,” said Emma curtly. “I don’t know what kind of _conditioning_ Selene gave them, but they have no identity. They never get tired. They never get sick. They do exactly what you tell them to do and nothing less.”

“I’m sure the Inner Circle got plenty of use out of them…and not just the kinky kind, either.”

“It’s probably best you not know the details. Then again, you’re a master spy. You may already know the details and are too polite to describe them. That, or you’re too busy contemplating all the lurid possibilities.”

She spoke with the maturity of an immature teenager, but she wasn’t entirely wrong. Natasha remained fixated on these handsome men, her naturally tactical mind conjuring all sorts of elaborate plans. She needed to steady her thoughts. This wasn’t some elaborate spy operation. This was something simpler…something basic and personal.

“However they’ve been used before, you need not worry about that now,” Emma assured her. “I’ll only say that despite being mindless, the rest of their bodies are in perfect working order. Their equipment is quite _adept_. Their blood is as clean as a prepubescent choirboy. Their man-juices are rather sterile, but I don’t imagine that’s a concern for you.”

“No. It’s not. It hasn’t been for a long time,” said Natasha as she took a step closer to these men. “My concerns at the moment are entirely personal. And with that in mind, I’d like to keep such personal concerns extremely _private_.”

“Yes, I’ve taken that into account too,” said Emma, sounding offended that Natasha would think her so short-sided. “Shanobi Shaw built this room with the express purpose of keeping everything that goes inside as private as possible.”

“Exactly how private are we talking about here?” asked Natasha, still not diverting her gaze from the men.

“I don’t know the particulars – and don’t particularly care to know, either – but from what I’ve been told, this room is shielded from any and all psychic, mystical, and electronic spying. Nothing more advanced than a light bulb works in this room. Thanos could be getting spanked by Apocalypse in this room and nobody in the universe would know about it or…”

Emma’s words trailed off, but only because Natasha stopped listening. She had already made the most dangerous assumption any spy could make. She’d decided to trust Emma Frost.

In the end, she needed to trust her. She needed to because she needed _this_. Emma Frost might very well be a dangerous, devious woman who actually took pride in some of her misdeeds, but she was still a woman of her word. Natasha needed her to keep that word. In order for her to keep living in this shadowy world – to continue being the master spy that everyone needed her to be – she needed what Emma Frost had promised her.

_‘She thinks she understands. She has no idea how wrong she is. Nobody…not Captain America, not nick Fury, and certainly not Emma Frost…can understand what this means to me. No mind, body, and soul is built to endure the world of espionage as I have. I can’t let it break me. I have to…no, I NEED to feel something real.’_

Emma kept talking while Natasha scrutinized the three naked men standing before her. She reached out and lightly touched the chest of one of the men. His skin felt hard, yet warm, triggering various reactions within her body…reactions she had to repress all too often.

“So…any more questions, Ms. Romanov?” said Emma, her tone still wry with sensual undertones. “Need any tips or guidance, so to speak? I imagine it’s been a while for someone in your trade.”

Had Natasha not been so focused on the scene before her, she would’ve scowled at the former White Queen. To her, this was just a naughty game from a woman who hadn’t enjoyed much intimacy in a while. To the hardened Russian woman, she’d finished her part.

“That’ll be all, Emma,” said Natasha flatly. “Leave me…and lock the door behind you.”

“Are you sure?” the former White Queen asked. “Espionage may be your specialty, but what you’re doing…”

Natasha didn’t let her finish this time.

“Is _nobody’s_ specialty,” she said firmly. “Please…just leave. I can take it from here.”

She sensed some disappointment from Emma, the deviant in her probably hoping that she could join in this _favor_ of hers. If she knew what and why Natasha intended to do here, then she’d have already left by now.

“Fine,” said Emma with a defeated sigh. “Take all the time you need. Enjoy yourself…as much as jaded Russian spies can, I suppose.”

Natasha paid no further attention to the further White Queen, nor did she care about her judgment. She just waited until Emma Frost left the room and locked the door behind her, leaving her alone and isolated in this room with three naked, well-endowed men.

The sound of the door locking allowed Natasha to finally let her guard down, something every competent spy avoided to the utmost. She really felt the sense of isolation in this room – this feeling that there was nothing and nobody watching her. What she did in this room was a secret known to her and her alone. Something about that resonated with the Black Widow, a master spy who’d spent her life exposing secrets. In fact, it even added to her growing state of arousal.

“Gentlemen…acknowledge my authority,” Black Widow told the men, speaking like a commanding officer to a team of soldiers.

“We acknowledge,” the three men replied in perfect unison.

“Acknowledge that you will do exactly as I say,” she added.

“We will do exactly as you say,” they replied. “By order of the White Queen, we are to obey every order given by Ms. Natasha Romanov.”

Their response sounded more akin to a machine than a man. Even disciplined soldiers spoke with some semblance of humanity in their voice. These men had none of that. They were truly mindless drones of flesh. That made what Natasha had planned for them a bit easier to carry out.

“In that case, here is my first order…don’t call me by my name,” she told them, still speaking with utmost authority. “I’m not your queen. I’m not your master. I am just a woman whose desires you’re going to fulfill. Do you understand?”

The three men paused for a moment, as though their limited minds needed time to process her sentiment. Natasha didn’t expect them to make sense of it. She didn’t need them to. She just needed them to obey her every whim from here on out.

“We understand,” they finally said.

“Good,” said the Russian woman, “then let us begin.”

Assured of their obedience, Natasha took a step back from the three men, who continued to stand with perfect discipline. She then casually shed her custom-made wrist blasters – her stingers, as her fellow Avengers called them – and removed her belt. Once these items fell to the floor, the Russian woman removed her gloves and the distinct, skin-tight uniform that made her so recognizable next to her fellow Avengers.

The three men didn’t flinch for a second as she undressed in front of them, which didn’t bother her. She didn’t need anyone saying anything that might make her overthink this. For once, Natasha wasn’t going to scrutinize every detail of her actions. She couldn’t shed her uniform fast enough, pulling the zipper down and pushing it down her womanly frame. Once it was down at her ankles, she undid her combat boots and stepped out of them as well.

Now wearing only a simple black bra and matching panties, she kicked aside her uniform and gear. There was something oddly relieving about shedding her attire like this. It was as though she were setting aside the persona of Black Widow so she could just be Natasha Romanov. She might not have been an ordinary woman by any stretch, but she could at least feel like one for the briefest of moments.

_‘When was the last time I did something like this? When was the last time I even had a chance to do something like this? It shouldn’t excite me like this. Maybe that’s a sign…a clear indication of how much I need this.’_

Her heart was already racing. A warmth was already forming in her core. With every spy instinct numbed, Natasha took a step closer to the three men, feeling their obedient gaze locked on her.

“Touch me,” she ordered them. “Touch me in a way that’ll make me feel good.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the three men replied flatly.

Her orders weren’t specific. She didn’t specify whether she wanted to feel relaxed, aroused, or horny. Instead, Natasha opted to keep things simple and basic, if only to see whether these men were as _conditioned_ as Emma claimed.

To Natasha’s relief and chagrin, the men quickly proved themselves. They each coordinated like well-trained soldiers, surrounding her on all sides with one in front of her while the two others stood at her side. They began by feeling and fondling around her womanly body, trailing their warm hands over her exposed flesh.

They paid close attention to her hips, thighs, torso and shoulders, scrutinizing every contour along the way. They didn’t avoid the various scars or faded bruises that she had accumulated over decades of spying. These obedient men remained entirely focused on making her feel good.

It worked too. Waves of shivers and shudders surged throughout Natasha’s body. There was strength in their touch, but they were quite gentle compared to their stature, treating her flesh as though it were a precious artifact of sorts. She wasn’t used to people being gentle with her. Hell, she wasn’t used to people not trying to kill her. It was jarring, but in a way she desperately needed.

_‘So this is what it feels like to be touched without fear or reservation…wow, have I really forgotten something so simple? Or have I just not allowed myself to feel it?’_

As Natasha contemplated these distressing thoughts, her body ached for more. The air around her seemed to heat up. A good portion of that heat was concentrated between her legs, another sign that she needed this more than she thought. She craved a more intimate touch and she could not get it in her current condition. That meant proceeding with the next phase of her plan.

“My bra and panties…remove them,” Natasha ordered.

“Yes, ma’am,” the three men said obediently.

Still treating her with the utmost care, the men finished the task of rendering her fully nude. One man got behind her and undid the clasp of her bra. He then skillfully pushed the straps down her shoulders and let it fall to the floor, freeing her breasts in the process.

As one man took care of her top, the two other man standing to her sides coordinated to remove her panties. They did it with the care of a team disarming a bomb. Each one lightly grasped the side of her panties and, with perfect synchronicity, pushed them down her legs. They went slowly, as if to highlight every inch of her flesh, and allowed her to step out of them with the utmost ease.

Now completely naked before these men, Natasha felt their obedient gaze on her again. They did not gawk or drool over the sight of her naked body. This left her with mixed feelings. On one hand, a part of her liked being admired, even if it was overtly crude. On the other, it was easier this way, ensuring no personal sentiments hindered this feeling.

“Go on. Keep touching me,” Natasha told the men. “Touch my breasts. Touch my vagina. Get me nice and wet.”

“Yes, ma’am,” they replied.

Their somewhat monotone voices were a bit frustrating, given the lewd nature of her request, but Natasha didn’t care about that right now. She craved a very particular feeling and didn’t give a damn about the finder details. For once, the master spy allowed herself to be reckless and crude.

The three obedient men continued to do their part and do it well. The two men to her side, which had removed her panties, went to work fondling her breasts. They used their hands with great skill, but also made use of their lips as well, kissing around her neck and cleavage. This sent more shudders and shivers up through her body. The intensity of those feelings escalated even more when she felt a hand between her legs.

“Mmm…that feels good,” she said with a light moan.

As the men kneaded and caressed her breasts, the man behind her demonstrated exceptional skill in fondling her pussy. He had definitely been conditioned, so to speak. He knew female anatomy well, as though it had been programmed into his mind. Given the ability of telepaths like Emma Frost, that was entirely possible.

He plunged his fingers into her folds, rubbed her clit with just the right amount of pressure, and got the blood flowing in all the right directions. Before long, her sex was slick with juices. Hot tingles coursed through her body, evoking more gasps from the hardened Russian.

_‘This is really happening. I’m really THIS horny. Just when I thought I’d been numbed to such feelings, I’m can still feel like a healthy, normal healthy woman…relatively speaking.’_

Relative or not, the men helped her accomplish the first – and most difficult – part of her plan. She was horny now. The erratic thoughts of a master spy, always having to assess a situation and prepare for an attack, finally ceased. Instead, her thoughts were simple and basic. She wanted sex. She wanted pleasure of the most basic kind. Here in this hidden den of decadence, she could get it without reservation or complication.

“No more!” barked Natasha, desperation and restlessness echoing in her voice.

The men immediately stopped, but remained close, their hands still on her naked body. They might have been mindless, but they still sensed what she needed.

“Take me to the bed,” she told them with great urgency.

The three men didn’t even respond with words this time. They just nodded. It must have been their way of recognizing the extent of her urgency, showing that their capacity went beyond that of mindless drones. When it came to obeying their master, they understood when mere obedience wasn’t enough.

Like bodyguards guiding her through a war zone, the three men led Natasha over to the king-sized bed. They surrounded her on all sides, their hands never leaving her flesh, as if to help her remain focused on her desires. If this were an actual mission, then they would be ahead of schedule. In this case, though, the stakes were much higher and much more personal.

Upon reaching the bed, the man behind her took her in his arms and lifted her up off the floor. The other two men gave him space as he crawled onto the bed and laid her down in the center, her naked body now on full-display for these three men. As she looked up at them, Natasha noticed that their dicks had become fully erect. She didn’t remember whether this happened when they began touching her or if they just got hard on command. Whatever the case, she was now in the presence of three strong, well-endowed men who could give her what she craved.

“You there!” said Natasha, pointing at the man who’d laid her down. “Get on top and fuck me!”

“Yes, ma’am,” replied the masked man.

She swore there as a touch of _eagerness_ in his voice…or maybe that was just Natasha’s lurid thoughts playing tricks on her. It had been a long time since she sought something so crude and basic. She wasn’t going to concern herself with the particulars.

The man complied with her command as though it were the most important mission of his life. He got on top of her, grasped her by the waist, and aligned his dick with the wet folds of her vagina. Natasha instinctively spread her legs and hooked them around the man’s waist, grabbing onto his shoulders for leverage. Then, the man buried his face between her shoulder and neck and pushed his hips forward, driving his dick into her pussy.

“Ohhh bozhi moi!” Natasha gasped, a bit Russian entering her voice.

Sharp sensations of hard penetration shot up through her body. She felt her moist sex stretch to welcome the hard, manly flesh of this nameless yet well-endowed man. She reacted with instincts that most spies trained to suppress, embracing the most basic functions of her body and all the pleasure it brought.

_‘Wow! Sex still feels good. Has it really been THAT long? Have I really become THAT detached from such basic feelings? I thought I knew how much I needed this. I guess I was wrong.’_

Letting out another gasp, Natasha closed her eyes and instinctively grasped the torso of the man on top of her, digging her nails into his back. She clung to him firmly as his body began to move, carrying out the simple motions of sex. With his knees and feet dug into the bed, he rhythmically thrust his hips, pumping his erect cock within her pussy. With each thrust, she felt his rigid length slither inside her, evoking more sensations and more feelings that fed this overdue need.

It was so basic and raw, lying here on this bed and having sex with this nameless man who was more drone than stud. The circumstances didn’t matter though. In this intimate moment, Natasha didn’t have to be a master spy, a loyal soldier, or a cunning deceiver. She just had to be a normal woman fulfilling a basic need while daring to actually _enjoy_ it. For everything she had been through and everything she had lost, it was an amazing feeling.

This was no romantic entanglements. There were no personal connections. The various men she’d been involved with over the years – Clint Barton, Matt Murdock, and Bucky Barnes – they only ever seemed to end in heartbreak, disappointment, or tragedy. It might have hardened her heart, but Natasha refused to let it harden her soul. That was why she needed this. Just the raw sensations of being intimate with someone – even if that someone was a mindless drone who blindly served the Inner Circle – reminded her that her soul, while damaged, was still intact.

“That…that’s it! Keep…fucking…me!” Natasha said through repeated gasps. “Fuck me…until I…come!”

The masked man on top of her could only moan to acknowledge her command. He must have heard her because he began moving his hips faster, thrusting his cock into her with greater vigor. Natasha felt the bed rock along with her body. She let out sharper gasps as she raked her nails down the back of the man on top of her.

She still kept her eyes closed, wanting to focus entirely on the feeling and not the person giving it to her. This feeling was what she needed…that feeling of raw, undiluted ecstasy. It came quicker than she expected. Her body, being so resilient and age-defying, clearly hadn’t forgotten how to orgasm. The masked man on top did his part and did it well, his efforts sending her to the brink and beyond.

“Oohhh, I…I’m coming! Bozhi moi, I’m coming!” Natasha cried out.

When it happened, it hit her like a tidal wave during a hurricane. Her toes curled, her back arched, and the inner muscles of her vagina throbbed around this man’s cock. Ripples of pleasure became surges of ecstasy, filling her body with the white hot sensations she hadn’t felt in too long.

It didn’t just bring her intense pleasure. It brought a powerful sense of relief. The tension, stress, and inner turmoil that constantly plagued her, both as Natasha Romanov and Black Widow, finally eased under the weight of this feeling. Like a dam that needed to vent immense pressure, it helped ease her many burdens. It helped steady her restless mind. Such moments were exceedingly rare in the life of a master spy, which made them all the more precious.

_‘I was even more wrong than I thought. This wasn’t just the burning need of a horny woman. There’s something more to this feeling…much more.’_

As her mind lingered in an orgasmic daze, Natasha still felt the man on top of her. He had slowed his movements, having clearly sensed her orgasm. Being so obedient, he didn’t _dare_ prioritize his pleasure over her, although she could tell from his grunts that he too was close to orgasm. His unyielding efforts to obey her didn’t hinder the function of basic male biology. Even if he was a mindless drown, he deserved some reward.

“Go on. Finish…inside me,” Natasha found herself saying.

She hadn’t given much thought to those words. They were likely a byproduct of immersing herself in these feelings of ecstasy. She clung to that feeling, even as the man on top heeded her merciful command.

Natasha felt him thrust into her throbbing pussy a few more times, her various juices making it even easier than before. Finally, once he crossed the same threshold as she did moments ago, he let out a deep moan as he drove into her one more time, releasing a load of his cum into her depths.

“Mmm…ma’am,” was all he got out.

As she heard his blissful moan and felt his imposing body go limp from the ecstasy, Natasha finally opened her eyes. The masked man’s face was still buried between her neck and shoulder, now panting heavily. Looking up at the ceiling, her dazed thoughts settled and she quickly realized something else.

_‘I need more of this feeling. One callous romp with a nameless stud just isn’t going to cut it. I’ve been too good a spy and soldier, denying and depriving myself for the sake of my mission. I will not…I CANNOT do that now.’_

Despite her body still reeling from her first orgasm, Natasha pushed the masked man on top of her off, removing his rigid cock from her pussy in the process. He offered no resistance, if only because the ecstasy had rendered him dazed. The Russian woman then turned her attention to the two other men on the bed with her.

Near as she could tell, they never diverted their focus from her. They also made sure they were ready to heed her next order, their dicks in their hands and having been kept rock hard. They must’ve been stroking them while watching her have sex with the first man. It was yet another clear indication that, despite being mindless drones, these men still had functioning male biology. That meant seeking more of this feeling would be that much easier.

“You!” said Natasha, pointing to the masked man closest to her. “Lie down on your back. I’m going to ride your cock.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, his ragged breath revealing the extent of his arousal.

The masked man did what she asked, lying down in the center of the bed in the exact spot she’d been in moments earlier. As soon as he was in position, Natasha eagerly got on top of him so that she straddled his pelvis, the tip of his cock pointing right at her dripping wet sex.

The Russian woman was tempted to just drive her hips down and start riding this dick to more pleasure, but she knew that just wouldn’t do this time. The bar had been raised. The breadth of her desire had been revealed. That meant getting _creative_ in pursuing this feeling.

“You!” said Natasha, pointing at the other masked man, whose cock was still in his hand. “Come over here and stand in front of me. I’m going to suck your cock while I fuck.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the man replied, showing just as much arousal as the one under her.

He shot up from his position so that he was standing up on the bed. He then took a position right next to her, making sure his cock was right in her face. As this big piece of manly flesh filled her field of vision, Natasha initiated the next round of sex, thrusting her hips downward and driving another erect penis up into her vagina.

Another round of hot sensations, evoked by such hard penetration, filled her body. Now that she was more familiar with such sensations, it wasn’t as abrupt or overwhelming as before. Natasha just started riding this man’s dick, moving her hips and feeling the folds of her pussy slide up and down his shaft.

As she re-established the sexual movements from earlier, Natasha closed her eyes again and enveloped the cock in front of her with her mouth. Following the same desires that drove this feeling, she began sucking and licking along his length, working her head back and forth with lustful hunger.

Flushed with sexual energy and the pleasure that came with it, the master spy embraced a more _active_ role in pursuing these desires. She rode the cock of the man under her, placing one hand on his abdomen for balance. She sucked the other cock in front of her, squeezing the base with her other hand to keep the blissful sensations flowing in every direction.

These were not the simple, basic sex acts that Natasha initially pursued. This was the kind of stuff usually reserved for Emma Frost’s private affairs or Tony Stark’s birthday parties. She’d heard any number of stories about the kind of debauchery that took place in such moments. She’d rolled her eyes at such lurid tales. She’d never considered herself that sexual a person either, but maybe that was because she never gave herself this opportunity…one where she could just pursue these desires without reservation or complication.

_‘I can’t believe I’m doing this! I’m having sex. I’m sucking a dick. And damn it, I’m enjoying it! It feels good. I don’t just need this. I WANT this! I want it and I’m going to enjoy every goddamn second of it!’_

Her thoughts raced as Natasha pushed her needs and wants even further. She rode the man under her harder, her pelvis repeatedly smacking against his every time she drove her hips downward. She felt her breasts bounce with every movement, which somehow added to the feeling. Along with these heated movements, she sucked the cock in front of her harder, evoking deeper and deeper moans from the man.

Her intense efforts led to more pleasure…pleasure that escalated faster than expected. It might have been her super soldier biology aiding her, as it so often did during dangerous covert missions – that, or maybe she was just really horny. This rapid rise in pleasure sent her to the brink of another orgasm. This inspired even more _creativity_ , which required her to cease sucking the other man’s dick.

“My breasts…rub them!” Natasha ordered. “I’m getting…close!”

“Yes…ma’am,” said the man under her, his labored breathing also hinting at an approaching orgasm.

The man under her, despite Natasha’s hard riding, still obeyed her. He reached up and grasped her bouncing breasts with both hands. Then, as she rode and rocked her body to the rhythm, the masked man rubbed them with uncanny skill, likely due to more of the Inner Circle’s _conditioning_ .

The feeling of having her breasts rubbed, along with the rapid rhythm with which her pussy slithered along his cock, sent Natasha over the edge for her second orgasm.

“Oohhh I’m coming again! I’m coming…again!” she exclaimed.

Again, her lower back arched, her inner muscles throbbed, and she let out another moan of euphoria as fresh waves of pleasure washed over her body. It wasn’t as intense or overwhelming as the first, but it was every bit as enjoyable.

Natasha enjoyed it so much that she didn’t realize that she was stroking the dick in front of her extra hard. For a master spy who was supposed to be so aware of her surroundings, this was a hell of an oversight. The consequences, however, were hardly as dire. All it did was send the man standing next to her over the edge.

“Ma’am…” he said with sharp grunt as his only warning.

She barely heard him, far too lost in her orgasm to notice. It only became clear when she felt a thick stream of semen splatter onto her face and breasts. This caused her to finally open her eyes again, just in time to see some fluid land right on her lips. In her daze, she found herself licking it up, the salty taste not bothering her in the slightest.

After the waves of pleasure subsided, Natasha looked up at the masked man, seeing a hint of remorse in his otherwise-blank case. She responded with a reassuring grin, an expression that was exceedingly rare for a hardened Russian spy.

“It’s okay,” Natasha told him. “You’ll have other chances to make it up to me.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” he replied, bowing his head respectfully.

The fact she mentioned _other_ chances revealed the extent of her desires. It saved her the trouble of wondering whether this would be enough. Natasha, now locked in this daze of lust, knew without a doubt that she would need more of this feeling to get what she wanted.

_‘I’m not stopping. I CAN’T stop. For the good of my soul – what’s left of it, anyways – I can’t stop.’_

She abandoned what remained of her reservations. Natasha was now committed to fucking these men until she was fulfilled.

The man under her was still inside her, his dick buried deep within her throbbing folds. Even with her lower body still reeling from another orgasm, she started riding him again. However, as she resumed her movements, she briefly noticed the first man she’d fucked. She saw that his dick was fully erect again. Whether by the Inner Circle’s conditioning or overactive male biology, watching her have sex got him aroused again.

In her unrestrained state, Natasha went to work making good on this lurid commitment. That meant getting both crude and creative with her desires.

“You…get behind me and fuck my ass,” she ordered the masked man.

“Yes, ma’am,” the man replied, showing renewed eagerness.

She’d said these words without thinking them through, but it was too late to change her mind. Within seconds, the masked man got behind her and bent her over so that her breasts were mashing up against the chest of the man under her. Then, she felt the other man prop himself up on his knees, guide his dick towards her ass, and align the tip with her tight hole. With another simple thrust of his hips, he drove his dick up into her ass.

“Hnn…it’s in!” Natasha groaned.

“Ma’am…” the masked man said flatly.

“I’m fine!” she quickly replied.

The man didn’t move a muscle at first, allowing Natasha a moment to process this feeling. She clenched the nearby bedsheets and let out a deep grunt at the sensations that followed, feeling her insides stretch to accommodate his hard flesh.

At first, there was pain, but it was hardly enough to dissuade her. She’d received the best torture endurance training that the KGB could offer and had used it on more than one occasion. The momentary discomfort from anal sex was nothing. The promise of more pleasure – more of this desperately-needed feeling – kept her focused on the task that hand.

“Start…moving!” Natasha commanded. “Fuck me! Fuck me…in both holes!”

“Yes, ma’am,” the two men inside her replied.

Not questioning her desire, or even if the discomfort had passed, the two men began coordinating once more. The man on top of her started moving his hips, working his cock inside her ass. The man under her coordinated his movements, thrusting upward into her pussy with greater vigor.

Before long, the two masked men established a perfect rhythm. Like well-oiled pistons, one dick pumped inside her butt while the other slithered effortlessly within the folds of her throbbing cunt. As Natasha’s body rocked hard under the force of these heated movements, a new flood of sensations shot through her like a rocket. Some of it was still discomfort from being anally penetrated. Most of it was pleasure though. Together, it made for a unique blend of sensations that sent her deeper into this world of ecstasy.

_‘Two men…I’m being fucked by two men now. One’s fucking my ass. One’s fucking my pussy. Pain, pleasure, orgasm, comfort, discomfort…I don’t know the difference anymore. I don’t even care. All I know is…I still need this. I still want this. It’s just a matter of how far I’m willing to go.’_

The Russian woman closed her eyes again and soaked in the feeling that followed. She stopped trying to make sense of it. There was no use assessing it like a spy would. She’d crossed the point of no return. The only thing left to do was keep following these desires to the end, however deviant that might be.

More moans and Russian profanity echoed throughout the room as the two men fucked her. They didn’t go easy on her either and she didn’t order them to change that. They pumped their cock into her holes hard and fast, letting out rounds of grunts along the way. They might have had limited mental capacity, but they could still process the basic pleasures of sex.

This led to the man under her climaxing before she reached another orgasm. Natasha felt it when her body stopped rocking for a moment and sensed another thick load of cum shoot up into her pussy. This reprieve didn’t last long though. Shortly after the man under her finished, the man on top of her grasped her shoulders and pulled her up, withdrawing the man’s dick from her pussy in the process.

“Yes! Keep…going!” Natasha urged him.

The man behind her got the message. With his dick still deep in her ass, he resumed his thrusting. He didn’t go easier on her either. There was no lubricant, preparation, or anything of the sort. It wasn’t as though Natasha expected to have anal sex today, but she’d put her body through worse strain. Like any mission, this led to a payoff.

It came in the form of another mind-numbing orgasm. Any and all discomfort morphed into white-hot pleasure that erupted from her core like a volcano. In a fit of ecstasy, Natasha clenched the sheets of the bed, threw her head back, and let out a stream of Russian profanity that would’ve made any hardline communists blush.

Even with this latest orgasm, the masked man behind her kept fucking her. His dick still deep in her ass, he kept moving to maintain the rhythm. He even tightened his grip on her to help her keep her balance. It was somewhat disorienting, but she hadn’t forgotten what she told him. She commanded that he keep fucking her and he just did what he was told.

This man wasn’t going to stop. None of these men were going to stop until they’d catered to her every whim. Opening her eyes again, Natasha saw that the two men in front of her were already eager for more commands. They both were stroking their cocks, keeping them nice and hard for her. Even though she’d brought them all to orgasm at least once by now, they were ready to keep serving her.

“Didn’t…you hear? I said…keep going!” said Natasha sternly. “Keep…fucking me! Fuck me…until I’m satisfied!”

“Yes, ma’am,” the two men said in perfect unison.

“Good! Now get over here so I can suck your cocks.”

That was another string of words that Natasha hadn’t thought through. She didn’t bother either. She just licked her lips, waited for the two men to get in front of her, and then closed her eyes once more as the pleasure came to her.

Descending deeper into her decadent daze, the Russian super spy went about achieving this _satisfaction_ she craved. The masked man behind her kept fucking her ass while she sucked the cocks of the two men in front of her. She sucked them thoroughly, allowing herself to get a little sloppy at times. Drool and various other floods began dripping down her face. It might have been messy, but it helped add to the feeling.

For once, she didn’t have to be so damn precise. She didn’t have to be so damn careful with every move. There was something inherently liberating about that, abandoning the focus and scrutiny of being a master spy.

While she sucked off these men, the one fucking her ass climaxed again, shooting another load of his cum into her. Another thick load of manly fluid filled her depths, adding to this overall feeling of reckless ecstasy. It wasn’t enough to make her orgasm again, but it added more fuel to her lust. However, the flow of sensations couldn’t stop. Natasha refused to let it and these men remained dedicated to keeping it going.

“Again…do it again!” was all Natasha said this time.

The men didn’t need specifics. Before she knew it, she was on top of another man, riding his cock with her pussy again. The other man remained in front of her so she could keep sucking his dick. She went at it like this, sucking one cock while riding another, until she achieved another orgasm. After that, it was only a matter of her stamina keeping up with her desire.

It played out in a steady succession decadent acts. In one, she was on her back again, her legs hitched over the shoulders of a masked man while he thrust his cock into her, triggering another orgasm in her and another release with him. In the next, she was on her side, one leg bent back as another man pounded his dick into her dripping cunt at an angle while she sucked the dick of another man right next to her. This earned her another orgasm and another shot of semen on the face. In another, Natasha found herself on her hands and knees, one of the men fucking her ass from behind while she sucked the dick of another man in front of her. Another orgasm followed, along with another mouthful of semen.

_‘All this sex…all this pleasure…when did this happen? How did it get this…this intense? Has being a master spy just taken its toll on me? I thought I just needed a reprieve from all the lies and deception, but I guess I needed something more…so much more than I ever could’ve imagined.’_

This onslaught of lust, desire, and ecstasy filled the Russian super spy with all sorts of chaotic thoughts. However, she was not in a position to make sense of them, nor did she care to anymore. She’d descended this far into this daze of debauchery. She might as well see it through.

Natasha stopped keeping track of the various sex acts in which she indulged. Like any high-stakes mission, she pushed herself to the limit in order to get the job done. This meant many elaborate positions, many rounds of heated sex, and many powerful orgasms. Even these men – these men who had been conditioned for such extensive acts – struggled to keep up.

Eventually, even her enhanced physiology reached its limits. Even the most daring missions had to end at some point. The masked men could no longer keep up. Their heavy breathing, labored grunting, and strained movements hinted that they were reaching the extent of their _conditioning_. Despite this approaching fatigue, Natasha refused to leave anything to chance.

“One more,” she told them, her voice having become muffled and strained. “Just…one more.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said one of the masked men, still as obedient as ever.

In this final decadent act, Natasha lay on her side with the masked man behind her. He was also on his side, his hands on her hips while he pumped his dick into her pussy. He wasn’t going as hard or as fast as earlier. He wasn’t too gentle either, delivering a little extra force with each thrust, as if to fuck the last bit of desire out of her.

As Natasha held onto the sheets again, keeping her eyes closed for this last gasp at ecstasy, she let out desperate moans as she absorbed the hot sensations. After so much sex, soreness began mixing with the pleasure, but the Russian super spy effectively shut it all out. She continued to focus only on the pleasure that she sought, knowing it was the only way for her to quench this need.

“Just…a bit…more!” Natasha panted. I’m going to…come!”

Finally, the last surge of ecstasy shot through her. Still clenching her bed sheets, Natasha buried her face in the pillow as the familiar feelings of orgasm flowed through her. A warm blanket of bliss covered her body from head to toe, filling her with the most basic of pleasures.

_‘Love…lust…loss…sex…at the end of the day, they all blend together. They don’t need to be so complicated or agonizing. They can be reduced to their most basic feelings. For a master spy living in a world of lies, that’s the best I can hope for.’_

It finally came together, every decadent sex act culminating in this fateful moment. Still breathing heavily, her face half-buried in the pillow, Natasha opened her eyes again. The orgasm had passed and the soreness from so much exertion _caught_ up with her.

The man lying behind her carefully withdrew his dick from her, allowing her inner muscles to finally relax. She was so drained that she could barely move. Her legs had turned to mush. Every inch of her naked skin was covered in a light layer of sweat. Other parts of her body – namely her face, tits, and inner thighs – dripped with various male and female juices. The sheer weight of all the sex, decadence, and debauchery finally sank in. She asked for this knowing she had many pent up _frustrations_ to vent. She had no idea she had this much to vent.

“Bozhi moi,” she said under her breath. “I did it. I…I really did it.”

Now lying on her side, still unable to move, Natasha took in deep, steady breaths in an effort to help her body recover. The man who had been fucking her from behind rolled over, giving her some extra space. The other two men had already tapped out, lying next to her and panting heavily from so much exertion. Even with their conditioning, they had their limits. It looked like she’d pushed them to the brink. It said a lot about what she just did and why she did it.

She probably could’ve asked them to do more, even if it just involved sucking her nipples or licking off all the fluids from her naked body. The Russian super spy opted to give them a breather. Mindless drones or not, they’d earned it.

“Leave me,” Natasha told them. “I wish to be alone.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the three of them replied, once again in perfect unison.

Once more, they obeyed her command. Despite their drained state, they got off the bed and left her to herself, still naked, sweaty, and disheveled. They didn’t even gather their pants. They just slipped out the door, leaving Natasha to her still-chaotic thoughts. However, in wake of everything she just did and the ecstasy it brought her, a new clarity finally began to settle in.

_‘Spend too much time surrounded by lies and you start to forget what real truth feels like. At some point, you stop trusting your senses. You can’t rely on your instincts. Everything becomes a lie…another ruse to uncover. I don’t ever want to get to that point. I can’t…I won’t forget. This experience – this long string of crude, decadent deeds – it’s as real and as raw as can be. The feelings, the sensations, and the pleasure…it’s all real. It reminds me that I can still feel what’s true and real. I NEEN that reminder. Even if it means relying on Emma Frost and the goddamn Hellfire Club, I need it.’_

It was a bittersweet, but welcome clarity. It was what she hoped to find when she requested this favor from Emma Frost and then some. Now, as she lay on this bed in this private room within this secret club, the Black Widow felt her first sense of peace in a long, _long_ time. This feeling – this peace that came with the raw, basic sensations of the simplest acts – it gave her the perspective that every master spy needed. If she was to continue – to be both the Black Widow and Natasha Romanov – she had to cling to this perspective as best she could.

* * *

**Up next: The Stranger**

**AN: That’s the end of the first chapter. I intend to make at least one more for this short story. The next one will flash forward to when Mary Jane Watson is the Red Queen. Expect her to help Black Widow in her own special way. Until then, please take the time to leave a review or contact me with your feedback. I’m happy to chat and always eager for ways to improve a story. Until next time, take care!**

**MarvelMaster616**


	2. The Stranger

** The Red Queen Chronicles: The Spy  
Chapter 2: The Stranger **

* * *

**The Hellfire Club VIP Suite – The Present**

_‘Every covert mission, from basic subversion to complete infiltration, requires protocol. A good spy knows how to follow that protocol. A bad spy will try to improvise, seeking other paths in the vain hope that there’s a better way to get the job done. This is foolish, selfish, and often fatal. You cannot – and SHOULD not – attempt to achieve more than the mission allows. It may leave you feeling dissatisfied at times, but that’s why protocol is so vital. It saves us from our reckless whims.’_

Natasha Romanov had spent a good chunk of her long, chaotic life navigating an imperfect world through the shadowy trails of spies and secrets. Many considered her the best in the business. Armed with a mastery of every possible combat skill, refined through decades of experience, and rendered ageless by advanced biotechnology, none contested the Black Widow’s proficiency in the world of espionage.

Most attributed that proficiency to her enhanced physiology, her extensive training, or her affiliations with the likes of the KGB, SHIELD, and the Avengers. They were all dead wrong. Nobody survived this shadowy world without a strong appreciation for protocol. No matter the mission or the stakes, Natasha never deviated from protocol unless _absolutely_ necessary. By leaving such reckless inclinations behind, the number of times it had been necessary were few and far between.

Unfortunately, as with every spy at every level of proficiency, Natasha could never be sure when it was necessary to abandon protocol. She’d done a better job than most resisting the temptation. That had become _much_ harder since her dealings with Emma Frost and the Hellfire Club.

_‘Of course, we can never fully abandon our reckless whims. Master spy or not, we’re still human. We can’t stop ourselves from wanting more, even after we’ve achieved what we set out to achieve. This gets MUCH harder when what we seek is so personal. Even after a lifetime of detaching myself from personal burdens – multiple lifetimes, even – there are still certain whims…certain feelings that I cannot escape.’_

Such difficult thoughts plagued her, even as she stood in the obscenely luxurious comforts of the Hellfire Club’s VIP suite. Earlier this evening, she’d paid a visit to this club to enlist its private services. After indulging in those services – which included fucking five men, sometimes simultaneously, in a long succession of sex acts – Natasha helped herself to a long, hot shower in the palatial bathroom.

She was sweaty, drained, and sore. Various parts of her body, especially those between her legs, were still somewhat _tender_. She had since cleaned herself thoroughly, smothering her naked body with all the overpriced soaps, shampoos, and conditioners that the Hellfire Club could offer. Even after all that, she still found herself just standing under the steady torrent of water, letting it cascade down her flesh.

“You had sex tonight. You took it in every hole, had multiple orgasms, and satisfied every deviant urge,” Natasha told herself as she leaned against the polished marble walls of the shower. “So how the hell can you still be _tense_?”

It used to be one of the most relaxing parts of her regular visits to the Hellfire Club, taking a hot shower after engaging in long string of decadent acts. Tonight, however, didn’t feel so relaxing. Even within these luxurious settings, Natasha felt unsatisfied and incomplete. That hadn’t been the case since she’d made this den of debauchery a significant part of her more _personal_ missions.

_‘Since the Inner Circle fell, I’ve created a very favorable arrangement with the Hellfire Club. At least once a week, I reserve the private suite and the services of several mindless studs. I spend an evening getting fucked every which way and forgetting my lingering burdens, if only for a while. It’s crude. It’s decadent. I don’t deny that. But damn it, it works! At least…it works as much as I can hope for without breaking protocol.’_

Natasha kept trying to convince herself that what she’d been doing was enough. For reasons she struggled to grasp, tonight proved especially difficult.

When it became clear that she couldn’t wash away her tension, Natasha turned off the shower and grabbed a nearby towel. She then went to work drying herself off before wrapping up her long, red hair into a bun. Once dry, she stepped out of the shower stall and put on a white bath robe.

The warmth, along with the steamy environment, was somewhat comforting. As the Russian super spy wiped the fog off the mirror and took in her reflection though, she did not see a woman who looked that comfortable.

“Don’t do this to yourself,” Natasha told her reflection. “This _arrangement_ is working for you. Don’t risk it!”

That didn’t sound healthy in the slightest, her urging herself to avoid an unpleasant truth. That very sentiment had been a big reason why she sought this arrangement in the first place. Emma Frost even went out of her way to accommodate her, giving her the outlet she so desperately needed for her many burdens. The only one who could undermine it at this point was her.

_‘Tell yourself that all you want. It won’t change the truth. You’re a spy…a master spy, no less. You can interrogate yourself all you want. You cannot accept what you know isn’t true. You either accept it or you risk it…knowing full well the high cost of both.’_

Natasha scolded herself for thinking she could delude her way into contentment. If the KGB, Hydra, or the Skrulls couldn’t break her, then what hope did anyone have?

Shaking her head in defeat, the Russian super spy exited the bathroom. She had done everything she came here to do…albeit everything her protocol allowed her to do. She would’ve loved to stay and sleep in this luxurious setting, but she had other missions to tend to…missions that required the talents of the Black Widow.

Upon entering the main bedroom, where she had already laid out her Black Widow uniform, she prepared to get dressed and return to the shadowy world she knew so well. Then, before she even made it halfway to the bed, a lifetime of instinct took over when she realized there was someone else in the room.

“Who’s there?” Natasha called out, taking a defensive stance. “If you’re looking to see me naked, trust me…I’ll make sure it’s _not_ worth it!”

Any spy, assassin, or peeping tom must’ve had a death wish to drop in on her here. It shouldn’t have been possible at the Hellfire Club. Much to her relief, a familiar presence emerged from the corner of the room.

“Relax. I’m not here to sneak a peek,” said Mary Jane Watson, also known as the Red Queen of the Hellfire Club. “Hell, it’s not like you have anything I don’t.”

“Ms. Watson,” said a very annoyed Natasha. “I thought the Hellfire Club had an unwritten policy about bothering me on my visits.”

“You’re talking to a former prostitute, Ms. Romanov. I know more about _unwritten_ policies than most people. That means I also know when they should be broken.”

“I don’t know you well enough to trust in what you know,” Natasha said, still ready to attack at a moment’s notice.

“I also know a lot about trust issues too and not just because I was a prostitute, either,” Mary Jane retorted. “Think for a moment. Do you really think that I, a woman with _so_ much to lose and _so_ little combat training, would dare attack the infamous Black Widow? A well-known super-hero who regularly survives the Hulk’s temper tantrums?”

When she put it in that context, it made too much sense. She’d learned long ago _not_ to attack things that were exceedingly logical. She’d also learned that those involved with the Hellfire Club usually avoided foolish attacks. It was bad for business and, from what little she knew about Mary Jane Watson, she didn’t like to undermine her business.

Natasha still hesitated before finally letting her guard down. When she did, she remained where she stood and cast the Red Queen an unkind gaze. The other redhead remained unfazed. She just casually sat on the fancy chair located near the dresser in the corner of the room, her legs folded and her poise worthy of a true queen.

“You’re lucky. I’m _not_ in the mood for meaningless girl talk,” said Natasha.

“For a woman who just got laid, that’s saying something,” quipped Mary Jane with a half-grin.

“That should also be a clear sign that I do not wish to linger. I’ve done what I’ve come to do. I’d like to get dressed, get out of here, and get back to being the Black Widow.”

“And I don’t intend to stand in your way for long. I promise,” Mary Jane assured her. “I wouldn’t even be here if I didn’t have something important to discuss…or if it were something that didn’t mutually benefit us.”

Natasha’s intrigue was peaked. She looked at the Red Queen with a raised eyebrow. Her not-so-subtle undertone hinted that this was serious. Mary Jane was a lot like Emma Frost in that she was often coy with important matters, but she always brought substance to back up her exorbitant style.

“Since I became the Red Queen of the Hellfire Club, I’ve stayed out of your way, Natasha,” Mary Jane continued. “One of the first things Emma told me about this job – after its _bawdy_ dress code, of course – was the importance of your regular visits. Her exact words were, ‘Natasha and the Hellfire Club have an arrangement. Do nothing to undermine that arrangement, unless there’s a way to make it better.’ I’m sure she said it with more _attitude_ , but that’s the gist of it.”

“It is accurate, none-the-less,” said Natasha.

“I only know the basics of that arrangement. You come here, you go into our special ‘private’ room, you get a few Hellfire Guards, and you do your business. All the while, the Hellfire Club makes it a point to cover your tracks. As far as the outside world is concerned, you were never here.”

“Those are mere basics. Any other particulars are nobody’s business but my own,” Natasha told her with folded arms.

“And I’m not looking to change that,” said Mary Jane. “I’ve no problem with what you do here. I have every intention of honoring this arrangement for as long as you want it. There are nothing but benefits to keeping an Avenger, a master spy, and an agent of SHIELD satisfied.”

“Then why are you here? If there’s no problem, why are we even having this conversation?”

Natasha made it clear with her every word that she didn’t wish to complicate this situation. Even if she felt less _satisfied_ than she would have preferred, she favored sticking to her protocols. It was the least risky option for someone like her, who couldn’t afford to risk much to begin with.

“Because of that _second_ part of what Emma told me,” Mary Jane replied, “the one about making this arrangement even better.”

“Better?” scoffed Natasha, naturally skeptical of such a claim. “I barely know Emma enough to trust her…and even with that, I always made sure she had an _incentive_ to return the favor.”

“And I’m sure you’ve got a similar incentive to me,” said Mary Jane, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I bet if I ever betray you, every part of my life since the third grade would be ruined by morning. I don’t want that. I doubt you want that either.”

“Just so you know, I _hate_ it when people tell me what they think I want.”

“And I hate it just as much when I sense one of my customers isn’t getting the most out of my services. Talk to any one of my regular clients. Hell, talk to my high school prom date. I like making sure that those I serve are completely satisfied.”

“What makes you think I’m not satisfied?” said Black Widow with another scoff.

“Oh come now, Natasha. You’re talking to a woman who mastered multiple orgasms by her junior year in high school. I know the signs. You may be able to look me in the eye and lie to me, but you can’t hide what your body language is telling me.”

It was more excessive logic. As if to belabor her point, Mary Jane casually leaned back in the chair and grinned, showing all the traits of a woman who was satisfied with her personal affairs. They were traits that no spy, not even the Black Widow, could hope to mimic.

Much to her own chagrin, Natasha shook her head and relaxed her guard. There was no use hiding it. She would only insult her status as a master spy if she tried.

_‘I suppose this confirms my worst fears. I can lie to myself all I want, pretending that this so-called arrangement is getting the job done. It doesn’t change the cold, hard truth that no spy can escape. We can deceive others for lifetimes and beyond, but we cannot deceive ourselves.’_

Natasha, still keeping a close eye on the Red Queen, walked over towards the bed and sat down on it. Now just a few feet across from Mary Jane, she studied this woman with renewed scrutiny. She’d avoided getting to know her more than she had to since she became the Hellfire Club’s manager. The way she saw it, the fewer connections she had with this shady club, the better. However, Mary Jane Watson struck her as a woman worth getting to know.

“I’ll skip the part where I insult my dignity…what little anyone can have in this place, anyways,” said Natasha.

“I appreciate that,” said Mary Jane with a humored grin. “Now it’s none of my business why you do this. Everyone has their own personal reasons for wanting a little illicit indulgence now and then. Since you’re an Avengers, I’m going to assume you have a reason and it’s a damn good one.”

“You assume a lot about Avengers. Spend more than fifteen minutes with Hawkeye and then get back to me,” Natasha retorted.

“If he ever drops by for a lap dance or one of our ‘Tony Stark Specials,’ I’ll do just that. For the moment, I want to focus on _you_ …specifically how I can help you and how you can help me in return.”

The Red Queen rose up from her seat, walked over to the bed, and sat down next to the master spy. This time, Natasha wasn’t inclined to get defensive. This woman didn’t carry herself as someone who preferred making threats. That alone set her apart from Emma Frost, which only served to heighten her intrigue about what she had to offer.

“You strike me as a complicated woman, Natasha…one who likes to stay anchored, no matter how chaotic things get,” said Mary Jane, sounding less like the Red Queen and more like just some woman she’d meet for lunch.

“For a former prostitute and unapologetic whore, your spy skills are admirable,” said Natasha.

“This doesn’t have to involve spy skills. Simple observation is usually enough in this business. On paper, being able to strip, fuck, and orgasm in a controlled setting is a damn good anchor. Sex is one of those few experiences that binds us all. Whether you’re a superhero, a spy, or just some random schmuck, it reminds just how human we are…on top of feeling _really_ good, that is.”

“Yes. I suppose that’s a given,” the master spy commented, rolling her eyes somewhat.

“It’s also one of those feelings that’s easy to take for granted. People have all these expectations about sex and not just on their wedding night either. They want it to _affect_ them a certain way. They want it to _feel_ a certain way and I’m not just talking about the orgasms.”

“Are you going to tell me I’m taking it for granted?” asked Natasha defensively. “I may not be a former prostitute, but rest assured…my vast life experiences has taught me otherwise.”

“That’s not what I’m saying, Natasha,” said Mary Jane, “but we’re talking about _sexual_ experiences here. As someone who has had a lot of those experiences, I like to think I’ve taught myself just as well. That’s how I know better than most how certain experiences can be more _meaningful_ than others.”

There was that distinct undertone again, one that Natasha had only heard from women like Emma Frost. Being the Black Widow, a title reflecting the nasty tendency for her lovers to end up dead, she couldn’t deny that her understanding of sexual matters was limited. In fact, she’d never really been too preoccupied with sex until she set up this partnership with the Hellfire Club.

This woman, the Red Queen, made clear that she’d given this topic more thought than most. That meant she might know more than she did in this one specialized area. At a time when Natasha couldn’t claim that she was satisfying these vital needs, she felt more inclined to listen.

“I’ll trust your expertise, Ms. Watson,” Natasha said reluctantly, “and make no mistake. I _don’t_ say those words lightly.”

“Then I’ll make sure _these_ words count,” said Mary Jane with another half-grin. “I want to make your next visit to the Hellfire Club more _meaningful_. I strongly believe that by adding more meaning, you’ll find the satisfaction you’re looking for…a satisfaction you can’t get just by banging a handful of studs.”

“Perhaps it’s the old Soviet in me, but I’m inherently skeptical of strong beliefs.”

“That’s actually a good thing,” the Red Queen replied, as though she were encouraged. “It means it’ll be that much sweeter when my beliefs are vindicated.”

“Bold words from a woman with bolder dress sense,” said Natasha. “Exactly how do you plan on doing this? Moreover, what exactly do _you_ get out of it? The Hellfire Club is big on a lot of things. Charity isn’t one of them.”

“Oh don’t worry. I’ll get _plenty_ out of it,” she assured the master spy. “By doing this, you’ll also be helping someone very important to me. And by helping you, in turn, I ensure the Hellfire Club has another satisfied client…one who I’d prefer to be a powerful ally in a world where there are plenty of enemies.”

The attractive redhead fell silent, but the grin never left her face. She casually leaned back on her arms, showing off her bawdy Red Queen attire in the process, as if to remind her that she knew what she was talking about. This world – the Hellfire Club and all the decadent experiences it offer – was her domain.

Natasha Romanov wasn’t easily impressed, especially by women who used their cleavage with the same precision that she used her guns. However, Mary Jane Watson wasn’t just some self-admitted whore whose primary goals involved weaponizing her sex appeal. She made clear that she had bolder plans, bigger visions, and a keen awareness of herself and others. Had she been born in Soviet Russia, she would’ve thrived in her own unique way.

_‘There comes a point in every mission where you know you’re about to break protocol. Every bit of common sense tries to tell you otherwise, but your instinct won’t let you. It’s still a risk, but it’s not a foolish risk if you know the situation and the people involved. I can’t claim to know Mary Jane Watson very well, but I am confident of one thing…this woman is an ally worth having.’_

Finally, albeit with some reluctance, Natasha grinned at the Red Queen. It affirmed that she was going to do it. She was prepared to break protocol in hopes that this more meaningful experience, whatever it entailed, would help her find the satisfaction she sought.

“Okay, Ms. Watson,” the master spy said. “I’ll stop talking now and just listen. Tell me how this is going to play out. What sort of _experience_ can I anticipate on my next visit to the Hellfire Club?”

* * *

**The Hellfire Club – One Week Later**

In every occupation, there are good days and bad days. However, no occupation has worse bad days – or worse good days, for that matter – than a master spy. Given her circumstances, Black Widow couldn’t afford to have too many bad days and not just because she was an Avenger.

Natasha’s line of work was often a matter of life and death. If she had a bad day, that usually meant someone suffered because she couldn’t get the job done. Having endured plenty of missions that had gone horribly wrong, such failures added to her many burdens. That made whatever reprieve she could find all the more precious.

This past week had been especially difficult. A clash between the Avengers and Baron Zemo, along with a few private missions that hadn’t panned out, made Natasha feel more tense than usual. Her many burdens gnawed at her like a lingering pain that would not hear. She needed some kind of _relief_. If Mary Jane Watson, the Red Queen of the Hellfire Club, kept her promise, then Natasha would get just that. She’d gone so far as to claim she would get more than she expected.

Natasha, naturally averse to believing such lofty claims, decided to give the Red Queen the benefit of the doubt. It’d given her something else to anticipate during her next visit to the Hellfire Club. She wasn’t one to get too excited, but the former Russian spy couldn’t help but be curious at what awaited her.

_“Arrive as your normally do. Go through the back entrance, sneak around the security, and make your way up to the private VIP room. I’ll make sure everything is set up.”_

 

Those were the instructions that Mary Jane Watson had given Natasha one week ago. It wasn’t too different from her usual protocol. She made it a point to minimize her exposure to the Hellfire Club to the greatest extent possible. This meant never entering through the front door, avoiding the main club, and even circumventing the building’s elaborate security system.

For the Black Widow, this was easy. She’d waited until night had fallen over the city. She even lucked out because it was pouring rain tonight, which gave her even more cover. It allowed Natasha to hop over a few rooftops, access the main building from a hidden entrance commonly used by security personnel, and evade the main barriers by crawling through a couple of vents.

She made it into the building with ease, popping out one of the vents in the middle of a private hallway a dozen floors above the main club. By her standards, it was child’s play. She’d done training exercises that were more challenging. It also convinced her that this would be the easiest part of this plan.

_“Once inside, slip into the bathroom next to the VIP room. Don’t worry. I made sure it’s purged of any and all vulnerabilities that might concern a spy. You can check too if you want. I want you to be completely at ease as you do this.”_

That was asking a lot of a master spy, being at ease in _any_ situation. Natasha still made the effort, choosing to trust that Mary Jane had taken the necessary precautions to ensure her anonymity. That meant blocking any and all signals into this area, be they electronic or psychic. It was a policy she had adopted from Emma Frost. She’d proven that she was just as serious about keeping the secrets of the Hellfire Club. It was just good business practice and more often than not, business won out over any potential _complications_.

Confident in the Red Queen’s business savvy, Natasha entered the spacious bathroom as quickly as she could after entering the hallway. It was empty, quiet, and poorly lit. Near as she could tell, there was nobody else on this entire floor, as if Mary Jane had gone the extra distance to ease her concerns. If this panned out, she would have to thank her for such efforts.

_“Once inside the bathroom, strip down to your bra and panties. You can take everything off if you want, but I recommend you keep a little something on. You’ll see why when the time is right.”_

Natasha had heard those last few words way too many times in her spy career. In her experience, when someone spoke with such vague teases, it usually meant she was in for a nasty surprise. Multiple run-ins with Loki had made her extremely skeptical of such _coyness_.

With Mary Jane Watson, the Black Widow made a rare exception. Against her various spy instincts, she took her advice. She removed her blasters, stepped out of her boots, and stripped off her skin-tight uniform, leaving her in a simple pair of black panties with a matching bra. She still neatly folded up her uniform and kept her blasters on standby, just in case. However, a part of her hoped that wouldn’t be necessary.

_“Do whatever else you have to do. Take a shower. Apply makeup. Rub some lube to your asshole. If there’s anything that’ll help you relax and put you in the right mood, so to speak, this is the best time to do it.”_

The Red Queen might have just been joking with her remarks. However, the presence of a bottle of lubricant on the sink indicated she’d been dead serious. Natasha chose not to use it, but she was every bit as serious.

Before moving a step further, the master spy stood in front of the bathroom mirror over the sink. For a moment, Natasha just stared at her reflection. It would’ve been easy to smother herself in makeup like Emma Frost or style her hair Carol Danvers. Many had told her, half-seriously at times, that with a little work, she could walk into any club and get some rich American man to marry her on the spot. She usually rolled her eyes at such remarks, but they weren’t entirely wrong.

Natasha knew she was beautiful. Being a well-trained spy in conjunction with advanced biotech gave her a toned, shapely body. The most makeup she ever used was lipstick and that was only to cover up traces of major fights. Unlike some of her female friends, though, she didn’t make use of her beauty or even really acknowledge it.

The problem, in her mind, was that outer beauty often hid some real ugliness. The life of a master spy had taken her to some pretty nasty places with some pretty nasty people. Sometimes, it felt like all that ugliness and nastiness rubbed off on her. A big part of why she’d been coming to the Hellfire Club was because the reckless indulgence reminded her that her mind and body still functioned on some levels. She could still experience these simple, basic feelings.

“You’ve done all you can do,” Natasha said to her underwear-clad reflection. “Just go out there and do it. At least _try_ to feel like you want to feel.”

They were the words of a woman with so many burdens, chiding herself for pretending that she had been holding it together. Natasha was never one to hide from her burdens, but she knew she needed a better way to cope with them. Hopefully, this would give her just that.

_“Don’t take too long though. For what I have planned, time is extra precious. You’ll want to make every moment count.”_

Knowing the value of time in a mission, Natasha didn’t linger for too long in front of the mirror. She just leaned over the sink, took a deep breath, and shoved every last burden into the deepest recesses of her mind.

“Make it count,” she told herself. “I can do that for so many things. For this…well, I guess I’ll find out soon enough.”

Abandoning whatever reservations she might have had, Natasha pulled away from the mirror and exited the bathroom. She then made her way across the hall, still wearing only her bra and panties.

It left her vulnerable in a way she wasn’t used to, especially for a master spy. She had gone on missions with limited equipment or appropriate attire. Not many required her to strip down to her underwear. Those weren’t her kinds of operations. However, this _wasn’t_ a mission. She had to keep treating it like one. This was personal.

_“Once you’re ready, make your way to the VIP suite. Don’t bother knocking. Just open the door and head inside. The arrangements I’ve made should be ready and waiting.”_

Time seemed to slow down as Natasha approached the door to the suite she knew so well. In fact, this was the same suite she had used the first time she enlisted a _favor_ from the Hellfire Club. It had become so familiar, this private den of decadence. This time, however, it felt completely different.

“Let’s see if these _arrangements_ are worth the wait,” Natasha said upon reaching the door.

Without the slightest hesitation, the master spy opened the door and stepped inside. What she saw was not too different from what she had witnessed before at the Hellfire Club, but this particular sight evoked some added intrigue.

“Welcome, Ms. Romanov,” said a deep, masculine voice. “I’m glad you could join me tonight. I’ve been looking forward to this.”

Those words did not come from a mindless Hellfire servants. It came from a thinking, feeling, fully-aware man…one who could talk freely and interact with her. It was different, not to mention risky, but it only served to heighten Natasha’s intrigue.

“Thank you. I’m…glad to be here too,” Natasha replied, being simple and casual with her words.

“Then come on in. Make yourself comfortable. As you can see, the Red Queen and I made the mood was as _relaxing_ as possible.”

The man gestured around him to make his point, as if to further tempt the master spy. No temptation was necessary. Natasha already found herself being drawn in.

Closing the door behind her, and making sure it was completely locked, Natasha approached the man standing in the center of the room. Along the way, she took in the _mood_ that he and Mary Jane had set. They certainly went the extra mile, decorating the room in a manner that made it look more like a honeymoon suite at a fancy hotel rather than just some place for people to have orgies.

It had lamps with fancy red curtains draped over the lights, illuminating the room in a steady glow. It had various scented candles set up on the dresser and various shelves, filling the area with a potent mix of pleasant scents. The king-sized bed had also been decorated. In addition to fine red linins that had probably been imported from Europe, there were various rose petals sprinkled atop the sheets.

It looked like something a man would do for his lover on a special occasion or something. It was cheesy, not to mention woefully out of place in the Hellfire Club. At the same time, however, it was uniquely appealing to Natasha, helping her relax more than she expected.

“This is very nice,” said Natasha, trying hard not to sound too much like woman on her wedding night.

“I’m glad you like it,” said the man. “I promise it gets better!”

It was abundantly clear now. This man was _not_ one of the Hellfire Club’s servants. He was something very different…something she had yet to encounter in this decadent place.

Natasha stopped admiring her surroundings and focused solely on the man before her. His stature was similar to the Hellfire servants. He was tall. He bore a well-toned, distinctly masculine physique, complete with muscles akin to an athlete. His attire was familiar as well. He wore a mask, black pants, and no shirt to show off his upper body. However, there were some distinct differences.

For one, this man’s physique wasn’t quite as _buff_ as the Hellfire servants. He looked more like an ordinary man, not too tall or overly muscled. This was someone who could walk down the streets of New York and not turn too many heads. In addition, his mask was somewhat different. Instead of the usual black-on-white pattern, his had been modified so that it was mostly red. It still had the same eye-holes and mouth opening, but it also obscured his voice somewhat – likely another security measure to maintain anonymity.

As a general rule, both as a spy and as a woman of great experience, Natasha was inherently suspicious of strangers. However, something about this man felt…reassuring. She didn’t mind when he took a step closer to her and snaked his arm around her waist. She also didn’t stop herself when she reached up and felt the warm flesh of his upper body with her hands.

“You look very beautiful tonight,” the man told her. “I like your choice in underwear.”

“Thanks. It’s cheap, generic, and I buy them in bulk,” replied Natasha.

“That’s okay. On a body like yours, it still looks sexy as hell.”

It was immature, but not of the Hawkeye-level variety. Natasha even managed a slight smile, a rare reaction for her, even on a good day. That was a good sign in her book.

“I appreciate that. You have a nice body as well. It’s so…real,” she found herself saying.

“Real?” said the man with a humored grin.

Now _she_ was the one who sounded immature. She thought she had prepared herself for this. For once, she overestimated herself.

“Sorry, I…this is somewhat _unusual_ for me,” said Natasha.

“Hey, that’s okay. This is kind of new for me too,” he replied, “but I think it’ll be good for us.”

His embrace on her strengthened. Natasha felt his powerful arms draw her in closer, his upper body making contact with her exposed flesh. It felt good. There was a distinct warmth to his touch, one that she hadn’t felt with the Hellfire servants. This man had thoughts, feelings, and sentiment. His touch conveyed every one of these things, evoking in Natasha a well of desire.

_‘I don’t know this man. I have no reason to trust him. But God help me, I WANT to be in his arms. I WANT him to touch me.’_

She could already feel a heat growing between her legs. Wanting to be touched by this man inspired more powerful wants. Rather than run from them – the conditioned reaction that every spy learned, no less – she pursued these wants even more.

Natasha eagerly explored his upper body with her hands, tracing around muscles of his chest and arms. As she did this, he guided his hands along her womanly curves. He was gentle and tender. Even through his mask, Natasha saw a similar desire in his eyes. He wanted her. Unlike the servants, it wasn’t about obeying orders this time. He feely and willingly wanted _her_. There was something about that she found uniquely alluring.

“What is your name?” Natasha asked in this growing haze of desire.

“Um…you want my real name or just something fake?” the man replied, showing a carefulness that Mary Jane had likely requested.

“I don’t care. Give me whatever you feel comfortable giving. I just want it to feel real.”

“Then I guess Dick Armstrong is out.”

There was that immaturity again. This time, it was _dangerously_ close to Hawkeye territory. She still grinned though and so did he. She made sure he remained focused though. She made it clear just how important this was to her.

“Well, in the spirit of setting the right mood…call me Pete,” he told her.

“Pete,” Natasha repeated.

“Is that _real_ enough for you?”

“Yeah. It’ll do,” she said, “but just to make sure…”

Natasha let her words trail off and for good reason. As she let that name sink in, she snaked her arms around this man’s neck – this man who called himself Pete – and pulled him into a kiss. It wasn’t too hard or sloppy. It was just a simple kiss meant to convey a certain kind of sentiment.

As soon as their lips met and their tongues touched, it became abundantly clear for Natasha. This was _exactly_ what she had been looking for. Mary Jane Watson had proven herself to wield insight that rivaled any master spy.

_“The man you’ll meet inside that room is a very special man…one I know personally and care for deeply. He’s not a servant. He doesn’t even work for the Hellfire Club. He’s just a good, honest, decent man who happens to be kind, handsome, and well-endowed. What he’ll do for you after you get acquainted…well, I think your body will tell you all you need to know.”_

The Red Queen’s words proved downright prophetic. By kissing this man, feeling his embrace while she embraced back, her body reacted in a way that needed no spy skills to decipher. She was going to have sex with this man tonight. However, this was going to be more meaningful than sex…meaningful in a way she did not yet understand, but was eager to find out.

“Pete,” said Natasha after their lips parted, “yeah, that’ll do nicely.”

“Yeah…nicely,” Pete replied, his voice showing a similar eagerness.

They were officially on the same page now. They kissed again. This time he made the first move, capturing her lips and strengthening his hold on her. Natasha’s usual instincts were to escape someone’s grasp, throw them to the floor, and subdue them. This time, those instincts were muted. She was not a master spy right now. She was just a woman in the arms of an attractive man, kissing him and following him down a path of lust.

As Pete was kissing her, she felt him grab hold of her butt and lift him up off her feet. He did so with surprising ease, showing uncanny strength for someone of his stature. Natasha certainly didn’t complain. She let other instincts take over, hooking her legs around his waist and grasping onto his shoulders so she remained secure in his grip.

Now locked in his arms, Pete carried her over to the king-sized bed. He continued kissing her every step of the way and she kept kissing back, savoring the distinct taste and slipping deeper into a sensual daze. Mary Jane Watson made many lofty claims about how this _arrangement_ would play out. So far, those claims had been met and exceeded.

_“Kiss him. Touch him. Embrace him. He’s NOT just going to fuck you like one of the servants. He’s going to treat you as though you’re his lover. He’s going to make you feel loved. Then, he’s going to make that love feel special…special in a way that I can’t put into words.”_

Natasha remembered rolling her eyes at those words. She even remembered chiding the Red Queen for such fanciful words. She had a feeling she would owe that woman a begrudging apology when this was over. First, however, she focused entirely on the feeling at hand.

“Natasha…you’re so beautiful,” gasped Pete in between their heated kissing.

His voice was so intense and sincere, a far cry from the flat tone of the Hellfire servants. It made his embrace on her feel more _intimate_. It also made her eager to feel more.

With the both of them already breathing hard, Pete laid her down atop the bed, wiping away some of the rose petals in the process. Natasha sank into the soft sheets, the heavy scent of the rose petals creating a distinctly sensual mood. It led to more kissing, this time of a more _energetic_ variety.

She soon found herself _making out_ with this man, as the Americans called it. She was more reckless with her touching, raking her hands over the muscles of his back and shoulders. He did the same, feeling up her waist, hips, and thighs. His every touch communicating a growing desire to match her own. It soon got to a point where clothing became a nuisance.

“Lie back,” Pete told her. “Relax. Let me make you feel great.”

“Mmm…you’ve got a head start,” said Natasha.

He smiled at her and she smiled back. She then closed her eyes, loosened her grip on him, and let him do what he needed to do.

It was a significant deviation from previous visits. She usually had to order the Hellfire guards at every turn, right down to when to take their pants off. She sensed it would be a _very_ different story with Pete. He needed no such orders. All Natasha had to do was lay back and enjoy it…another unfamiliar feeling for a master spy.

_‘I’m breaking a cardinal rule of spying. I’m trusting a total stranger. I’m putting myself at his mercy. It feels good…usually a red flag before everything goes wrong. I’m still going to risk it. I want to…no, I NEED to.’_

The master spy boldly surrendered what little leverage she had left, releasing her grip on his shoulders and unhooking her legs from his waist. This allowed Pete more freedom to do his job and he wasted no time in doing it well.

He started by trailing his lips down her neck. He was so gentle and careful, as any man should be in the presence of a lover. In the process, he also pushed the straps of her bra off her shoulder. He then reached around her back and did the clasp before removing it completely, tossing it across the room. With her breasts now exposed, she felt Pete’s admiring gaze on her.

“Your breasts…so nice,” he said.

“Then please…touch them,” Natasha urged him, her eyes still closed.

He heeded her request with the utmost urgency. She felt Pete’s lips traverse her cleavage, eventually ending up on her left nipple. As he teased it with his mouth, he reached over and fondled her right breast. Sharp sensations surged through her body, causing her to tense briefly.

Again, Natasha had to fight the instincts that usually came with a sudden rush of unexpected feelings. In her vast experience, that usually meant there was danger. This time, it was the opposite. These sensations felt good. They felt very good. She had to _urge_ herself to relax.

_‘Relax. Breathe. Enjoy it. Enjoy this feeling. You’re not on a mission. He’s not a Hydra agent, a spy, or a Skrull. He’s just a man who wants to please you. Let him!’_

This still proved difficult. More hot sensations followed under Pete skillful touching. Even as she fought to relax in this moment – at least as much as any hardened spy could – he stepped up his efforts.

After he finished stimulating her breasts, the masked man ventured farther down her body. He kissed along her exposed flesh, following her womanly sinews over her toned core. Once his lips reached her navel, she felt him grabbed the sides of her underwear.

“Lift up your hips,” Pete told her. “I’m going to take your panties off.”

Natasha wordlessly complied, a reversal of sorts from the usual dynamic with the Hellfire servants. She didn’t mind though. If anything, it heightened the growing feeling.

With the flexibility and core strength of a well-conditioned spy, the Russian woman lifted her hips so Pete could slide her cotton panties down her shapely legs. By now, the heat between her thighs had made them too much of a burden. Getting them off was overdue.

Once removed, Pete tossed them into the corner next to her discarded bra. She then felt his gaze narrow on her fully nude form.

“Wow. You’re really wet,” he commented, sounding somewhat surprised. “You must be _very_ horny.”

“Will that make things easier? Or harder?” quipped Natasha.

“Easier…definitely easier!”

Natasha wasn’t used to things being easy, but she made an exception this time and Pete wasted no time in making her glad she did. With her hips still elevated, he grabbed onto her thighs and pushed them apart. Then, using the same strength he demonstrated earlier, he draw her pelvis to his face so he could taste her pussy.

“Ohhh! Easy indeed!” Natasha moaned.

Her eyes still closed, she soaked in the feeling as this masked man gorged on her moist flesh. He wasn’t gentle or careful either. He dug right in, so to speak, shoving his tongue into her folds and licking up her juices. He had clearly done this before. For all she knew, the Red Queen trained him for this. If that were the case, he _definitely_ passed.

A new round of sensations shot through her, this time more intense than before. There was no ambiguity this time. Even with her overzealous spy instincts, her body understood this feeling. This was pleasure…basic, undiluted pleasure. She didn’t take it or request it from a mindless servant. A man was willingly giving it to her. That added greater meaning to this feeling.

_‘He’s really doing it. He’s making me feel so good…so content…so loved. I don’t even know him and he’s making me feel THIS good. What does that say about me?’_

Whatever the implications might have been, Natasha was in no condition to make sense of them. The sensations surging through her body escalated rapidly under Pete’s oral teasing. After lapping up her juices, he paid closer attention to her swollen clit, intensifying the pleasure and evoking a round of sharp moans. Along the way, she elevated her hips a bit more so that her legs were bent over his shoulders, giving him the best possible angle with which to eat her out.

He was so thorough and so skilled with his efforts that he sent her to the brink of orgasm. It actually caught Natasha off-guard somewhat. She wasn’t used to achieving orgasm through oral sex alone. Then again, the Hellfire servants had never been this _dedicated_ before. Like finding a shortcut on a daring mission, Natasha entered that special domain of ecstasy.

“Pete! Bozhe Moy! I…I’m coming! I’m going to…come!” she exclaimed.

“Already? Good!” replied Pete, his voice muffled by her pussy.

He tightened his hold on her hips and gave her clit a few more skilled licks, as if to give her an extra push. She certainly didn’t need it at this point, but Natasha certainly didn’t mind. If anything, it made the orgasm that came more powerful.

It came in an intense rush of sensations. Natasha grabbed the sheets of the bed, arched her back, and let out the kind of moan that would’ve blown any cover, had this been a mission. Like a warm blanket on the coldest of Russian nights, waves of hot pleasure washed over her. Every burden, every scar, and every wound she had ever suffered – which, given her history, was pretty _extensive_ – faded under the weight of this feeling, if only for a moment.

_‘Pain, loss, lies, and deceit…no, not here. Not now. This…this is real!’_

Even as the sensations subsided, Natasha felt her body settle into a state of contentment she had not known for a long time. Pete, remaining as dedicated as any lover could be, held onto her as she settled into this contentment. Eventually, he set her hips back down on the bed and hovered over her again, caressing her face as she panted heavily from the lingering bliss.

“Did you enjoy that?” asked Pete in a playful voice.

“Mmm…” was all Natasha could get out.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Had Natasha not been so content, she would’ve laughed at such a juvenile undertone. She could care less how mature he was at this point. This man just gave her an orgasm with oral sex alone. He had earned the right to be a little immature. In fact, he had earned more than that.

_“Once you embrace that feeling – that sense of being loved, feeling loved, and enjoying every goddamn minute of it – well, at that point, the rest should become obvious.”_

It was official. Mary Jane Watson, the Red Queen of the Hellfire Club, had been vindicated once more. Natasha had been skeptical, but was ready to admit she’d been proven wrong. She had a feeling the Red Queen would rub it in her face the next time they met. For once, the Russian superspy didn’t mind in the slightest.

Her recourse now obvious, just as Mary Jane had predicted, Natasha opened her eyes to see the Pete’s masked face hovering over her. She smiled at him, releasing her grip on the sheets and embracing him again. She showed her appreciation, kissing him on the lips, not caring that it meant tasting her own juices. Pete kissed back, but this time she conveyed the necessary sentiment. It helped send this man a message that made clear they were _far_ from done.

“Pete…” said Natasha after their lips parted, still somewhat breathless.

“Yes, Natasha?” said Pete, still intently focused on her.

“I want to suck your dick now,” she told him. “I want get you nice and hard. Then…I want us to have sex.”

Pete reacted somewhat oddly to her exceedingly direct words, clearly not familiar with how blunt a Russian woman could be when she was _this_ horny.

“Um…okay,” he said with a grin. “You want me to…”

“No,” said Natasha, cutting him off before he could offer anything else. “You’ve done your part. Now let me do mine!”

Like so many men who had fallen into the Black Widow’s grasp, he didn’t argue. Unlike most of those men, he didn’t seem inclined to escape that grasp.

Unleashing a reckless burst of lust that went against a lifetime of discipline, Natasha kissed him again, this time harder and with more intent. It quickly turned into another American make-out session, but only to the point that it ended with Peter sitting in the middle of the bed, leaning back on his arms while Natasha went to work.

With more recklessness, she smothered him with her lips, kissing down his neck and chest. As she tasted more of his manly flesh, she reached for his pants and undid them as swiftly as any master spy could. Natasha then grabbed the sides of the tight-fitting black pants and pulled them down. Pete lifted his hips, allowing her to get them off, along with his boots and socks as well.

Upon tossing the garments across the room, Natasha’s gaze narrowed on Pete’s exposed manhood. He was already semi-hard. Going down on her got his blood flowing in the right direction. Licking her lips intently, the Russian woman prepared to finish the job.

“Your _endowment_ is as impressive as your oral sex skills,” said Natasha in a seductive tone that would’ve made Emma Frost proud.

“Thanks. I hope that’s not just the post-orgasm afterglow talking,” Pete joked.

“Trust me. It’s _not_ ,” she said with stern certainty.

He leaned back a little more, giving her a better view of his growing manhood. Natasha positioned himself between his legs, kneeling down so that she had an unobstructed access to his flesh.

First, she grasped the base of his dick, earning an immediate reaction from Pete. Then, she leaned in and gave it a thorough lick around the tip. This drew a stronger reaction. From there, simple lust and a simple desire to return the favor took over.

“Ohhh yeah! That feels so good!” moaned Pete, leaning back a little further as she began her oral teasing.

Encouraged by his blissful words, Natasha began sucking his dick. Parting her hair behind her ears, she licked and slurped along the length of Pete’s shaft. Before long, she was bobbing her head up and down in a rhythm. She even stroked his cock with every motion, drawing more blood into his lower body. It proved so effective that she could actually feel him getting fully erect in her mouth.

She did her best to match the focus and intensity that he demonstrated with her when he ate out her pussy. That meant putting much more effort than she usually did when giving oral sex to the Hellfire servants. This man had freely and willingly given her pleasure. She didn’t have to command it or demand it. He gave it to her because he wanted to. She could do nothing less.

“Oh fuck! Ohhh fuck! Natasha…so good! Getting…so hard!” he moaned.

The extra effort paid off as well as Natasha could’ve hoped for. With an efficiency that would’ve impressed Banner himself, Pete became rock hard. She felt his member throbbing in her mouth. She sensed how it _ached_ to be inside her, craving the same pleasure she had just experienced. She had no intention of making either of him wait a second longer than necessary.

“Mmm…are you ready?” Natasha asked him, giving the base of his cock another squeeze to tempt him.

“Yeah…I’m ready. I’m _very_ ready!” said Pete, already short of breath.

“Then come here. Let’s do this.”

No further command or request was necessary. The deeply seductive undertone, combined with her Russian accent, told everything she needed to know. Assured that Pete got the message, Natasha released her grip on his cock, rose up, and captured his lips in another kiss. From there, basic intimate passions – the kind that might as well be alien to Natasha – took it from there.

With their lips entwined, Pete wrapped his arms around her and laid her on her back again. Instinct led her to spread her legs and wrap them around his waist, allowing him to position himself so that his erect cock was right at her entrance. Upon feeling the tip against her moist folds, the kiss ended and Natasha’s gaze became locked with his.

“Here it comes,” he told her.

“Do it. I want it inside me!” said Natasha intently.

With his knees and feet dug into the bed, Pete thrust his hips forward and entered her. Natasha felt his rigid cock penetrate her sex, her inner muscles eagerly stretching to accommodate his length. She instinctively closed her eyes and let out a deep moan as a new round of sensations coursed through her. However, before she fell too deeply into that daze, she felt his hand on her face, which got her attention.

“Wait…keep your eyes open,” Pete told her.

“What…” she began, her mind barely coherent at this point.

“Trust me. You’ll be glad you did!”

Those were famous last words. For any master spy, they were famous for the wrong reasons. Then again, she had already made herself so vulnerable to this man. Here she was, lying naked underneath him, his flesh entwined with hers. Trust was irrelevant.

She did as he asked and, to her own chagrin, she was glad she did. At the very moment she opened her eyes, Pete buried his face in her neck and began moving his body to establish a sexual rhythm. In doing so, he revealed another feature to this room that she had somehow missed, even with her keen observation skills.

_‘Mary Jane Watson, you brilliant, self-proclaimed whore…you keep finding ways to outdo yourself.’_

Natasha laughed, even as her body began rocked to Pete’s movements. Up on the ceiling, hanging directly over the king-sized bed, was a mirror that offered a perfect overhead view of her and Pete’s naked bodies. She could see her reflection and his, their bodies joined in full sexual union.

It was a lurid, yet novel sight. Natasha had heard of this before. She knew for a fact that Tony Stark had setups like this for his various sexual conquests. She’d often rolled her eyes at it, seeing it as some stunt by narcissistic playboys who enjoyed watching themselves have sex. Now, in seeing herself in this elaborate setup, she saw a different kind of appeal…one that sent her into a different kind of daze.

“Wow,” she said distantly as she admired the sight.

“Yep! Just lie back…and enjoy the show!” said Pete playfully.

Her gaze now locked on their reflection, Pete stepped up his efforts. He reached up and grabbed onto the headboard of the bed, giving himself more leverage as he pumped his cock into her pussy. With every motion, he let out a deep, masculine grunt. It echoed with a sincere, focused effort to ensure she enjoyed herself.

As her body rocked and hot sensations coursed through her flesh, Natasha watched in awe at the display above her. It played out as though she were spying on herself from the perfect angle. With each motion, Pete’s body moved up and down hers, his manly flesh effortlessly gliding over her womanly form. Along with each motion, she felt his penis thrust into her vagina, stimulating her hot depths. Again and again, the sensations surged through her, filling her with a pleasure that was every bit as _special_ as what the Red Queen had promised.

_‘So THAT’S what I look like when I have sex. I look so happy, comfortable, and content. Is that what I always look like? Or is this just that special?’_

She kept smiling at her reflection. Natasha hadn’t smiled like this in a _long_ time. She figured good, pleasurable sex had that effect on women. It felt good to see herself happy. It added to the many other good feelings that came along with sex, adding that special meaning she had been so skeptical of before. It made for a potent combination, adding more intensity to her sex.

Now under her own strict scrutiny, Natasha began to supplement Pete’s efforts. She grasped onto his shoulders, dug the balls of her feet into his lower back, and elevated her hips slightly every time he thrust into her. This rocked their bodies – not to mention the entire bed – with greater vigor. Pete certainly responded favorably, smothering her neck and face with more kisses, as if to show that this was special for him too. It made Natasha’s moans louder and her grin wider, which showed perfectly on the mirror above.

This intense sex – their naked bodies moving together in such heated harmony – sent the Russian woman to the brink of another orgasm. Having already had one, it should’ve taken much more to achieve another. That had always been the case with the Hellfire servants. It was yet another clear sign that this experience was something different.

“Pete! I…I’m going to…come again! I want to…come again!” Natasha said through labored pants.

“Ohhh yeah! I…I’m close too!” said Pete with increasingly determined grunts. “Keep watching! It’s so…close!”

She could tell he was holding back for her. He probably could’ve blown his load by now, but he didn’t. He was just _that_ determined to make sure she was pleasured and satisfied. It wasn’t because he had to. It was because he wanted to. Not since Matt or Bucky had Natasha felt such intimate affection.

Such dedicated efforts paid off once again. Natasha watched, the mirror providing a perfect view, as Pete delivered several extra hard thrusts, driving his dick farther into her pussy. That extra force, coupled with another intimate kiss on her neck, sent her back over that edge. As soon as she descended into that deep ocean of ecstasy, she marveled at how her expression contorted to the feeling.

“Ohhhhhh fuck!” she cried out.

Another warm blanket of bliss covered her. More waves of white-hot bliss flowed through her. She could even see her toes curl as she dug her nails into Pete’s back. It was a bit _theatric_ , but it nicely embodied the power of this feeling.

_‘That settles it. This really is THAT special.’_

She kept smiling at her reflection, even as the orgasmic sensations subsided and her head emerged from its euphoric daze. She continued breathing heavily, still swimming in a world of bliss. Just as she was settling down, though, Pete finally caught up.

“I’m coming, Natasha! I…I’m coming! Ohhhh God!” Pete cried out.

His heated motions finally slowed. Natasha watched his body tense and shift on top of her as his dick throbbed inside her. Then, she felt him shoot his load of cum into her, the mix of her juices with his culminating in this feeling of shared pleasure.

As this pleasure washed over him, Pete released his grip on the headboard of the bed, grabbed the sheets of the bed, and clung to them for dear life. Natasha, never one to leave a dedicated partner hanging, embraced him as he enjoyed his orgasm. In the reflection above, she almost looked affectionate. It was as if she weren’t just another cunning spy and ruthless killer in a world of many. She was just an ordinary woman sharing an intimate moment with someone.

_‘It’s still possible. You ARE capable of such feelings. You thought you weren’t. You tried to convince yourself you weren’t. Even after Matt and Bucky, you refused to believe it. Now, you have no excuse.’_

She smiled at her reflection once more. Then, Natasha shifted her attention back to the man with which she had forged this special moment. Sure, he wore a mask and she doubted Pete was his real name. That didn’t matter though. That didn’t make the feeling any less powerful.

With her arms still secure around him, she held this masked man as he caught his breath. He had since withdrawn his penis from her and was now resting his head on her chest, just above her cleavage. She gave him a brief moment to just enjoy the euphoric haze, but she had no intention of ending this here.

“That was quite a show,” said Natasha, whispering into his ear seductively.

“Yeah…hell of a show,” Pete replied.

“This may sound hollow, given our situation and locale, but…thank you.”

“No prob,” he said. “I’m happy to please a woman in need. Hell, it’s the most responsible think you can do at the Hellfire Club.”

“I wasn’t just referring to _that_ ,” she told him. “The sex is nice. The orgasm is certainly welcome. But that’s not why I’m thanking you.”

The Russian superspy then caressed his face. The mask might have blocked her touch, but it didn’t keep her from conveying the necessary sentiment. With Pete now looking up at her, she smiled affectionately at the man who just gave her this wonderful feeling.

“I’ve been coming here for reasons that go beyond…well, _coming_ if that’s not too crude,” said Natasha.

“We’re in the Hellfire Club. I’d say crude is a moot point,” said Pete wryly.

“Point taken, but I did have reasons. I thought I understood those reasons. Being who I am – being _what_ I am – it leaves you feeling so detached and empty at times. Sure, spending a night here, callously fucking so many nameless men, is a good way to blow off steam.”

“Yeah, I can think of worse ways to spend a weekend.”

“But it doesn’t fulfill every need. It doesn’t satisfy you in all the ways you seek. I thought I’d lost that feeling…that ability to actually feel intimate with someone. Turns out I was wrong. And I guess what I’m trying to say is…thank you for proving me wrong.”

It was probably the most sincere and genuine that Natasha had been with anyone since her relationship with Bucky Barns. Being a spy, those moments where she could just be this honest felt few and far between. Here, in this decadent den of all places, she recaptured that feeling.

Pete, still short of breath and in a post-orgasmic daze, just smiled back at her. Even through his mask, he looked somewhat befuddled. He probably hadn’t expected to give her this feeling. For all she knew, he had just been tasked by the Red Queen to satisfy a horny woman. His eyes revealed a much more complex man behind that mask. She believed she saw in him a good soul…one she wouldn’t mind sharing more of this special feeling with.

“You’re welcome,” Pete finally said after a brief silence. “I don’t claim to understand what you’ve been through, but you’re welcome. I’m glad I could help.”

“So am I,” said Natasha.

The Russian superspy further reinforced that sentiment by capturing his lips in another kiss. Pete eagerly accepted the gesture, emerging from his dazed state with the same focus as before. Considering his exhaustive efforts thus far, it was further testament to the kind of man he was.

The kiss, along with intimate sentiment that they had created, helped rekindle Natasha’s desire. Despite having had multiple orgasms already, she still craved more of this feeling. In discovering just how much she needed it, the only logical step now was to maximize it.

“Mmm…as much as I enjoyed that show,” said Natasha, her voice becoming seductive once more, “I wouldn’t mind an _encore_ , as they say.”

“I had a feeling you’d say that,” said Pete with a grin. “The Red Queen warned me that your needs were greater than most beautiful women with a sexy accent.”

“That woman astonishes me with understanding of other peoples’ sexual needs.”

“No argument here,” he said curtly. “She knows her stuff. That’s why she made sure I’m ready for as many _encores_ as you need!”

They both laughed. Knowing Mary Jane Watson’s penchant for sexual matters, his words could mean so many things. She’d probably given him some of that exotic wine she’d heard about. She’d heard some crazy stories from Clea and Mockingbird about that wine, a number of which involved some pretty outlandish parties by Tony Stark during his alcoholic days. They’d joked how a few glasses of that wine would turn a man’s dick into the bodily equivalent of the Hulk. Hopefully, that level of strength wouldn’t be necessary.

_‘It’s not very Russian of me, seeking such indulgence and excess. It’s not very American of me either, being so demanding of another. I don’t care right now. I’m not here to fill a role or carry out a mission. I’m here to embrace a feeling…to just be Natasha Romanov for a while. If this man is as ready as he claims, I’d like it to last.’_

Eager to restart the show, so to speak, Natasha kissed Pete again and pulled him into another American make-out session. She’d grown quite fond of these, sharing messy kisses while feeling around the manly features of his body. Pete seemed to enjoy it just as much.

She felt him guide his hands over her naked body, which was now covered in a light layer of sweat. Some of the rose petals from the bed even stuck to her flesh. This did little to hinder the feeling. After rolling around on the bed for a bit, feeling up each other’s naked bodies, Natasha felt a fresh round of heat form in her lower body.

Pete, much to her chagrin, got aroused again as well. Before long, she felt his dick stiffen up again. It happened even faster than she expected, even if he had some of that wine in his system. It was almost like he had superhuman healing of sorts.

“Mmm…hard again already? Impressive!” said Natasha breaking the kiss briefly.

“The Red Queen leaves nothing to chance,” replied Pete, now speaking in a deeply masculine voice.

It was pretty astonishing. Natasha, once again resisting the curiosity that came with her spy instincts, chose not to give it another thought. This man was hard again and she was wet. That was all they needed to kick-start a fresh round of this feeling.

This time, Natasha got on top, rolling Pete onto his back and positioning herself over him. He had exerted himself so much earlier. It was only fair that she share in the _labor_ of this blissful feeling. Once certain he was comfortable, she rose up and turned around so that she was facing away, giving Pete a view of the butt that many of her Avengers teammates – namely Hawkeye – loved to complement. This man seemed to appreciate it just as well.

“Such a nice ass,” he said as he reached out and grasped it.

“And I know how to use it,” Natasha quipped playfully.

Not caring for a second how immature that sounded, the Russian woman went to work. After straddling his hips again, she leaned forward a bit and reached behind so she could guide his dick back into her. This time, however, she didn’t align it with her pussy. Instead, she pointed the tip right at her ass.

Before Pete could even ask whether it was okay, Natasha slammed her pelvis downward, driving his cock up into her ass. It caught him off-guard, but the blissful grunt indicated that he didn’t mind in the slightest. It also had the desired effect on Natasha. The sharp, burning penetration that followed filled her with a fresh rush of lust.

“Ooh! That’s…so tight!” Pete grunted.

With a moan of approval, Natasha channeled her renewed desire and began riding Pete’s cock. Having indulged in plenty of anal sex at the Hellfire Club – in addition to having a durable, well-trained body – there was little discomfort. As soon as her inner muscles adjusted to the size of his length, she began working her hips in a steady rhythm, pumping his cock into her ass with focused vigor.

Natasha rocked her body, as well as the bed in the process. Moans, grunts, and pleasure followed. Pete maintained a strong grip on her hips, helping to guide her ass along the length of his dick as she rode him. She continued leaning forward, gripping the sheets of the bed to maintain leverage. As the sensations escalated, the pace of her movements intensified as well. In another testament that showed just how much she needed this feeling, she worked her way to another orgasm.

“Again! Going to…make me…come again!” Natasha cried out.

This time, Pete had no chance of catching up. This didn’t stop him from doing his part though. As the feeling approached, she leaned back as her lower body contorted to the oncoming sensation. Pete made sure she stayed up right, rising up and embracing her in his arms as she achieved another blissful sexual release. It led to another cray of ecstasy that echoed through the room. She also made it a point to reward Pete, turning her head and kissing him.

“Quite a show, eh?” he commented.

“Indeed,” Natasha replied with a content purr.

More making out followed. Natasha, even after a third orgasm, didn’t dare lose focus. She continued pursuing this feeling, rising up off his cock and turning around to feel more of his flesh. He clearly wanted to share this feeling too. They were going to share as much as their bodies would allow.

Like any other ambitious endeavor, Natasha pushed herself as only she could. More kissing and touching led to more sex and more positions. For a while, Pete kept his focus on her ass, lying her on her side and fucking it until he climaxed again. The extra tightness of her butt got him to his peak with surprising efficiency, but Natasha still wasn’t done and neither was he.

Without missing a beat, they rolled around on a bed a little longer until they ended up on their sides in the 69 position, as Tony called it. From here, they gave each other oral sex again. Natasha sucked his cock while he ate her pussy out. Once he was hard again, she got on her hands and knees while he fucked her pussy from behind. This _really_ rocked the bed, allowing both her and Pete to maximize their physical talents. It led her to yet another orgasm. Even with this volume of ecstasy, though, she kept pushing herself.

Position after position, orgasm after orgasm, Natasha fucked this masked man with a determination she usually reserved for her most critical missions. Together, their bodies moved in a sweaty heap, his manly sinews meshing with her womanly curves. Gasps, moans, grunts, and cries mixed through various bouts of pleasure. It was as much a test of endurance as it was an outlet of desire. Pete did what he could to keep up with her, but she made abundantly clear that she needed this _much_ more than he did.

_‘Pain, hardship, lies, and deceit…balanced by pleasure, ease, contentment, and truth. It’s still a basic, physical act…having sex with a man I don’t know, nor care to know. It may be an act of fantasy, merely mimicking the experience of making love and feeling love with another. But the idea that I CAN still do this…that I can make love, feel love, and share a moment with someone…that’s a powerful feeling. I cannot…no, I WILL not forget it.’_

The dedicated venting continued, each sex act playing out like a blissful reminder that Natasha sorely needed. Pete kept doing his part, showing signs of strain after a while. She eased up on him as much as she could, but remained intent on achieving the satisfaction that had evaded her in recent times.

As she neared the limits of her lust, that satisfaction felt tantalizingly close. Just one more orgasm would do it. For this final push, she had Pete on his back again. With both feet planted firmly on his side and her hands on his chest, she rode his cock hard in a desperate push for one last peak. She couldn’t recall how they ended up in this position. Her focused daze left little things like time and sequence fall to the wayside. However it happened, she was still leading the show.

“One…one more! So close! I’m so close! Just…one…more!” Natasha exclaimed.

“Do…what you have to do,” Pete told her, clearly winded from so much exertion. “I…want this for you.”

His dedication to pleasing her gave her even more motivation. He still did his part, holding onto her hips and supplementing her gyrations with upward thrusts of his own. She felt his dick slithering inside the tight folds of her pussy, filling her with the sensations she needed to achieve that final peak.

How he’d managed to keep his dick hard, even with the help of the Hellfire Club’s wine, was beyond her. Natasha didn’t give it the slightest thought. With satisfaction within her reach, she tapped what remained of her stamina and rode his cock to one last climax.

“Ohhh here it comes! Here it comes!” Natasha exclaimed. “Ohhhh fuck!”

With just a few more hip movements, it happened. She finally reached her goal. As the hot fires of pleasure consumed her, Natasha dug her nails into Pete’s chest and threw her head back as she let out one more cry of ecstasy. In the process, she saw the blissful expression on her face in the overhead mirror. It was quite a spectacle and a fitting one at that.

_‘That’s the face of satisfied woman…a woman who can still achieve this feeling, despite her so many lies and burdens. Amazing!’_

It had taken every last bit of effort. It had required that she ignore or abandon the perfectly-honed instincts that made her Black Widow, the deadliest spy in the world. Such a feeling, which was so basic and raw, had once seemed impossible for her. Yet here she was, having achieved the impossible. Being in the Avengers had made the impossible distressingly routine. This moment, however, carried with it a special kind of accomplishment.

“Bozhe Moy…I did it,” she said distantly.

“Yeah…and then some,” commented Pete.

As Natasha absorbed every last ounce of pleasure from her orgasm, she remained fixated on her reflection for a moment. Seeing herself entwined with this masked man, having achieved the satisfaction she sought, left her in an unfamiliar state…namely one of contentment. In her line of work, it was rarely a statement that lasted. That made embracing it all the more vital.

With this in mind, Natasha let out a content sigh before rising up off Pete’s dick. He had done so much for her. He had earned a chance to rest. As their flesh parted, Natasha’s stamina finally gave out and she collapsed on top of him. Pete, still as dedicated as ever, eagerly caught her in his arms and helped her lay down. She then found herself resting comfortably on top of him, her head on his chest where she could hear his heart beating.

“That…was amazing,” said Natasha distantly. “It was…beyond what I expected…or thought possible.”

“You’re welcome…I guess,” said Pete, still clearly winded. “If it’s okay with you…I need a moment. I uh…don’t think my legs can carry me right now.”

“Take all the time you need,” she told him. “In fact…I want you to stay here. Keep holding me…like I’m your lover.”

“Well…if that’s what you need.”

It was probably the least strenuous demand she could’ve placed on him at this point, just holding her in his arms. It still did more than he could’ve know. This feeling, being so satisfied in the arms of a dedicated man, was something Natasha thought she’d never feel again. After what happened with Bucky, she thought she’d lost her ability – not to mention her right – to feel this way. She had never been so relieved to be so wrong.

As she listened to this man’s beating heart, the daze of desire and ecstasy faded. A more profound realization settled in. What she had done and why she had done it fell into place. Whether it was from this feeling of satisfaction or just being so damn content, it really made sense now.

“Pete…do you believe in redemption?” asked Natasha.

“Um…I don’t know,” he replied, caught off-guard by her question. “Is there a certain answer you want me to give?”

“No. I want the honest, unfiltered truth,” she said with certainty. “I’ve done things…good and bad…right and wrong…everything in between. I’ve pushed myself, punished myself, and challenged myself…wondering if I’m stuck in a never-ending battle.”

“Some battles never end, so long as you’re still alive.”

“That may be true, but some of those battles leave scars…deep scars that never heal. I’m better than most at dealing with those scars. Sometimes I worry they’ll come to define me…that I’ll lose myself because of them. I want to believe I can redeem what’s left of my soul, but…”

She cut herself off here. She was asking way too much of a masked man she just met. Chances were this man had only been tasked with satisfying her sexually. She couldn’t expect him to help her with these heavy-hearted burdens that had plagued her for so long.

However, Pete didn’t let this kill the mood. He just kept embracing her. In fact, he even held her a little closer, hinting that he was used to naked women in his arms, asking him difficult questions. They spy in her was curious, but the woman in her just kept enjoying it.

“Honestly…I think redemption is a process, not a goal,” he said to her.

“What do you mean?” she asked curiously.

“We can’t change the past. We all have regrets…moments that haunt us in ways we can’t escape. The scars they leave never heal, no matter what we do.” said Pete distantly.

“Speaking from experience?” she inquired.

“More so than I care to admit,” he said, “but from that experience, I’ve learned not to focus on what we _wish_ we could do. In the end, we can only focus on what we _know_ we can do. In a sense, wanting to redeem ourselves – rather than actually redeeming ourselves, if that’s even possible – that helps make us better. That helps us be responsible.”

“Better _and_ responsible?”

“Yes,” Pete affirmed. “Having one without the other just leads to more regrets. In the long run – even if we don’t redeem ourselves in the way we want – we can take comfort in the knowledge that the process helped us do more good than we otherwise would’ve. That good, however meaningful it may be, is more important than redemption.”

He spoke like a man who had more than his share of regrets. While Natasha doubted his could come close to the burdens she’d born, she didn’t doubt his sincerity. They were not the words of a man simply playing a role, pretending to be her lover for the night. This was wisdom from a genuinely good soul…one who just happened to give her great sex.

The master spy looked up from his chest and smiled, an expression that still felt so foreign to her. She then reached up and caressed his face, which was still obscured by a mask. A part of her wanted to peer underneath, if only to make sure that there really was a man inside. However, she opted _not_ to uncover that secret. For once, the Black Widow was content to let something stay secret. Within the shadowy, deceitful world she lived in, it seemed like the most responsible thing to do.

“You’re as wise as you are endowed, Pete,” she told him.

“Thanks,” Pete said, smiling back as he kept her securely in his arms.

“I hope you’re right too. In my line of work, being responsible is _not_ easy.”

“That probably means it’s that much more worth doing,” he pointed out.

“And I’ve no intention of avoiding that,” said Natasha with newfound strength. “It might mean I need a reminder now and then…one that comes in the form of great sex with a man who knows how to give it _responsibly_.”

“Well if that’s what a sexy Russian woman needs, then I’m happy to oblige!”

“You’ve already given me more than I need…more than I ever could’ve asked for. Thanks to you – and the Red Queen, by default – I think I’m genuinely _satisfied_ with my new outlook.”

That powerful feeling – that satisfaction that came with the pleasure, the intimacy, and the clarity it offered – left Natasha in the most peaceful state she had been in a long time. She was happy to share that peace with this man, whoever he was, for the rest of the night. Still tired and drained, she rested her head on his chest again and allowed herself to drift off. He did the same, keeping her within his embrace.

Eventually, she would awake. She would have to shower up, get dressed, and be the Black Widow again, navigating a world of secrets, lies, and deception. However, she took comfort in knowing that she’d re-enter that world with a new perspective. She was going to be better. She was going to be responsible. It might have taken a night of decadent sex with a masked man, but it ultimately succeeded in giving Natasha the satisfaction she sought.

At some point, she was going to have to send her thanks to Mary Jane Watson. Once again, she delivered as only the Red Queen of the Hellfire Club could. She might be a decadent woman managing a decadent world, but she sure knew how to manage it responsibly.

* * *

**Epilogue**

“Well? Are you going to give me details or what, Tiger?” asked a very chipper Mary Jane Watson.

“Sorry, MJ. What happens between me and my clients is strictly _private_ ,” said an equally upbeat Peter Parker, who sat across from her at the breakfast table.

“Funny,” she quipped, “using my own words against me.”

“Hey, you’re the professional and the queen. I’m just following your example.”

“Now you’re just being a smart ass,” she said.

“I’m still the smartass who got to sleep with Black Widow,” said Peter proudly, “so I’ll take it!”

The Red Queen shook her head and laughed as she and Peter ate their breakfast in kitchen of the opulent penthouse she called home. He had clearly slept better than her. Wearing only a pair of boxers and having the kind of disheveled hair that hinted at an _eventful_ night, this was one of the few occasions where Peter could honestly say he was more content than her.

The situation was simple. He got to have sex with a beautiful, sexy super-spy. On top of that, he got to say he satisfied her in a way that none of the Hellfire Club’s mindless servants could boast – if they had been capable of boasting, for that matter. It was a rare role reversal. Mary Jane was usually the one who bragged about having sex with costumed heroes and not just him either. She had recently used her role as the Red Queen to get intimate with others in the superhero community, namely Wolverine of the X-men.

It didn’t seem fair, her getting all the action. That had been what led her to pitch this idea about him _servicing_ Black Widow during one of her regular visits. On top of the revelation that she’d been coming here for quite some time for a little sexual indulgence, he’d have an opportunity to help her out and get laid in the process. Only someone like Mary Jane Watson could craft an opportunity like that.

“You know, this could be an exciting new side-gig for you, Peter,” said Mary Jane. “I spoke with Natasha last night before she left. She was quite _impressed_ with your service.”

“Oh, so was _that_ your agenda all along? Turn me into the Hellfire Club’s personal gigolo for female heroes who aren’t content with organized gangbangs?” asked Peter jokingly.

“Does it have to be an agenda? If you’ve got the endowments and the skills, why not use them?” she said with a shrug. “It worked wonders for me.”

“This penthouse is bigger than my last three apartments combined. You don’t need to convince me that a life or prostitution can pay off.”

“I’m not talking about _that_ kind of payoff…although I imagine it would still be way more than a freelance photographer.”

“Like that would be much of a stretch,” said Peter, rolling his eyes.

“Look beyond the sex, the orgasms, and the transactions that go with it,” Mary Jane continued. “Look at what you were able to do. You’ve got these powers and you use them in so many meaningful ways, saving lives and fighting crime. Well, this is another way you could use them.”

“And it’s another way the cops won’t approve of and requires that I wear a mask,” he pointed out. “What’s that tell you about the _meaning_?”

“It tells me that you can do more and still be responsible. You can help others in ways that don’t just involve saving lives. You don’t have to cross lines. You don’t have to compromise. You just have to be willing to get _creative_ with your skills.”

“And be willing to work naked,” he added.

“That too,” she laughed.

They both still laughed as though it were a joke, but Peter got the sense that Mary Jane was being dead serious. The idea of him joining this decadent world, using the sexual skills that came with his powers, seemed so strange. At the same time, however, it made sense.

Being with Mary Jane Watson had given Peter new insight into this strange, yet sexy world. This was not a normal world by any stretch, one full of decadence and debauchery that seemed inconsistent with his views of responsibility. Mary Jane convinced him otherwise. Maybe there were ways to be responsible and enjoy a little sensual indulgence in the process. He wasn’t sure his Uncle Ben would be proud, but he’d probably be envious on some level.

“You know what…that just might work,” said Peter. “I mean why wouldn’t it? I’m in love with a prostitute and admitted slut. Why not run with it?”

“A slut and a stud using their sex appeal to make the world a better place…what could be more responsible than that?” teased Mary Jane.

“I don’t know, but I’d love to find out!”

“So would I,” said Mary Jane in a sexy voice so befitting of the Red Queen.

They shared another laugh. It seemed unavoidable now, him having a role with the Hellfire Club. However, Peter had no intention of avoiding it. After his night with Black Widow, he was convinced that this was worth pursuing.

As he and Mary Jane ate their breakfast, Peter glanced over towards the living room where the special red mask he wore last night lay draped over the arm of the couch. He couldn’t stop himself from grinning at the memories from last night. It had turned out even better than he expected, probably more so than even Mary Jane had planned. This sexy, decadent world was still so new to him. However, in being with this woman, he found himself embracing it.

In an effort to share his upbeat mood, he scooted closer to Mary Jane and slipped his arm around her waist in an affectionate embrace. Despite having a mouth full of food, she eagerly accepted his gesture. Getting laid more often and working with the Red Queen of the Hellfire Club came with so many perks.

_‘Spider-Man by day, Peter Parker by night, and a masked gigolo/sex therapist for female heroes…that’s a LOT of responsibility for one guy, but damn it’s rewarding! And Mary Jane just keeps finding ways to make it sexy as hell.’_

Mary Jane had changed his life a lot since that fateful night they met. It seemed as those she’d keep changing it in ways that were both responsible and sexy. Whether they involved him being Spider-Man or a secret gigolo, he made sure he made the most of them. In the end, that was the most responsible thing he could do. He had faith that Black Widow would do the same. If not, he looked forward to _reminder_ her again.

* * *

**THE END**

**AN: Thanks for reading. Be sure to leave a review. Again, I’m certainly open to suggestions for other ways to expand the world of Mary Jane Watson, the Red Queen. Please feel free to share those ways with me. Until next time, take care!**

**MarvelMaster616**


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